Sharpshooter
by Wulfydragon
Summary: The new companion has some wicked shooting skills, but that's not what catches the normally-grouchy Vilkas off-guard. It's her absolute lack of fear in the face of dragons, divines, and daedra... But he has competition. No slash. Mild violence. (Indefinite Hiatus - I kinda just remembered I had this.)
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I'm just starting out in fanfiction, and I've gotten some really great reviews that have given me some great pointers on writing fanfic, so if you'd like to contribute to my skillz please do! I'll update as much as I can, so please be patient =) Now, enjoy!

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><p>The day had started well enough.<p>

First, Lenay had woken up to find no bears had managed to steal her supplies from where they hang from the tree. Then, the Nord discovered that someone else had killed the dragon she had been going to kill. Well, that just left her day wide open.

…Which eventually led to her being dragged behind the bandit's horse as the scoundrels laughed at her. Dirt was working its way down her pants, the rope looped around her shoulders was threatening to slip upwards and choke her, and if her sword snagged on one more rock it would slide out of its sheath and get left behind. But the worst part was the fact these idiots had _ambushed _her. She was Dovahkiin, for crying out loud! And, to be honest, the laughter just made it worse.

"What an idiot! Couldn't see a trap if it spat in 'er face! Har har har!" the first bandit said, a lanky man with a rather scraggly beard. The other bandits replied with raucous laughter, which grated against Lenay's ears.

Apparently it also annoyed the poor, overburdened horse, because it jolted in its canter and the rope around the Nord woman's shoulders jerked upward an inch.

"Hey, do you think she's worth anything?" asked the second bandit, and the two others turned and peered at her through the descending gloom.

"What? For ransom? She ain't nothing special; we'll just throw her in the Pit with the wolves!" the first bandit crowed again, and Lenay gritted her teeth as best she could. The dirt working its way down her pants reached her boots, and then continued into the spaces between her toes.

In a few minutes, it would be dark save for the starlight, aurora, and the moonlight. But for now, her biggest worry was trying to flip onto her back as the horse continued along. Her sword could still be saved, if only she could lie on her back and attempt to catch her wrist bindings on some sharp object. Lenay swore vindictively as the bandits continued their loud musings.

The woman watched the dark sky go by, her black hair coated with dirt and mud, and then flopped like a fish. Writhing and arching her back, she managed to flip herself onto her back and send the treacherous rope sliding up the last few inches and tighten around her neck.

_Now I'll die for sure, _she thought to herself while attempting to scrape her hands against the ground. _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon… _she chanted, coughing as she tried to draw in air.

A whistle of an arrow sounded. _C'mon, c'mon… Stupid, good-for-nothing bandits, they finally learned to tie a knot? Wait. Is that? _The next time, the arrow struck home, and the bandit riding the horse pulling her tumbled backward. Momentarily squished before the horse broke into a wild gallop, the air was now fully driven from her lungs.

"Hey! Watch –" the call from the third bandit was cut off, and followed by a thump. Lenay could see black spots in front of her eyes, blocking out the stars, and managed to gulp a small sip of air before the galloping horse managed to kick a rock straight into her head and she lost her grip on consciousness.

Vilkas had just dragged the bandit off the horse when he heard Farkas call out.

"Hey! This one was dragging somebody! Alive, I think!" Vilkas grunted, and brought down his massive sword on the cowering bandit. Aela and Skjor had rushed over immediately, and Aela had a torch held above the victim's still form. Farkas's brow was furrowed in concern, but Vilkas sighed. Stalling, he wiped his blade off on the grass, then ripped Aela's arrows from the bodies of the other two.

Out of things to do, he turned and walked over. A Nord woman with shoulder-length hair, fine features, and a delicate scar that ran from the bottom of her left eye to the bottom of her cheek. A half-mangled rope lay beside her in a semi-circle; obviously wrist bonds, but another larger rope, knotted into a choke-holder lay like a halo above her head, and he could see why. A dark ring of bruised flesh circled her neck.

"For the love of Talos, they dragged her by the _neck?" _Vilkas growled, and Aela rolled her eyes. "You know, sometimes I think you and Farkas are both icebrains, captain obvious." The twins both turned to glare at her sharply as Skjor growled.

"Stop it! All of you! This woman is half dead, and us standing around bickering really is not going to help. We aren't too far from Whiterun, we should just carry her there on foot. She shouldn't be on a horse." The middle-aged man paused for a sigh, then continued, "And, by we, I mean you, Farkas. Let's go."

Lenay woke to a wonderful feeling. The feeling of clean hair. Her hands went immediately to her head, and she ran her fingers through the soft, combed locks. She moaned.

"Hey? Are you okay? Did we miss a wound up there?" a deep, masculine voice said suddenly, and her golden-brown eyes popped open. "Holy crow!" exclaimed the woman, flinching back into the bed at the sight of a face inches from hers. The face drew back, revealing a gigantic man with handsome features half-hidden behind a layer of dirt and war paint.

"Oh, no. Well, I think I did get smacked pretty hard in the head with a rock… but my hair is _clean. _Like, _really _clean. It's been months since I've been this clean! Being on the run – I mean, travelling this time of year is so slow, you don't have a chance to bathe!" rambled Lenay, and the man cracked a smile.

"I think you hit your head pretty hard. Well, anyways, I'm Farkas, and Tilma cleaned you up. You're in Jorrvaskr, Whiterun, and I think you've been asleep for about a day now." Farkas listed off on his fingers, and Lenay nodded along, then winced, bringing a hand to her neck. Gently, she prodded the tender ring of bruise.

"Damn bandits… I should have known that was a trap…" she cursed softly under her breath then looked up at Farkas. "Um. Could I have another blanket?" she asked, her voice cracking a little. Farkas smiled and patted her shoulder.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be right back, okay?" the big man was hardly out of the door before Lenay fell back into sleep, and by the time Farkas returned with a heavy woolen blanket, had curled up into a ball like a kitten.

A week later, Vilkas and Farkas were leaning over tankards in the mead hall. "I hear Aela is bringing her out for training today." Farkas commented, and his twin nodded silently. And, down the hall, Aela was leading the woman out. The tight-fitting leather armor they had found her in was once again upon her, along with the ebony sword. But there were also new additions; a quiver of sharp-looking arrows, a dagger strapped to the quiver, a second dagger strapped to her right hip, and a deadly looking bow half as large as she was.

Farkas's whistle was lost in the noise of the hall, but Vilkas smirked at him.

"You know it only matters how armed she is only if she can use everything. Want to move outside for a few laughs?" Farkas's older twin asked him, and Farkas chuckled and stood up in reply.

"Why are you following us outside?" snapped Aela as she led her charge out the double doors.

"Thy name is curiosity, Aela," grinned Vilkas, and the ginger punched him, muttering "Icebrain…" under her breath. Lenay rolled her eyes at the men and continued following Aela. The twins sat down on the porch and watched as the women halted in the center of the empty training square. The black-haired Nord woman expertly drew her bow and fired a shot into the bull's-eye of a target. Aela's cry of delight could be heard by the twins, who chuckled.

"Looks like Aela found someone who won't completely bore her," laughed Farkas good-naturedly. Lenay shot the same shot five times in a row with little difference; in one shot she split her first arrow in half. The ginger was grinning and laughing, but she waved over Vilkas, who stood with a sigh.

"What is it?" he demanded, and Aela arched an eyebrow at him. "Sorry. What is it, madam?" Vilkas amended, and successfully dodged Aela's swing.

"Anyways. As much as I would like to test her sword arm, I'm not qualified. You're the best for the job." The ginger made sad-eyes at him, and Vilkas groaned.

"Fine. But only because flattery will get you everywhere." He curtly drew his sword and turned toward Lenay. Her ebony sword was already drawn, gleaming in the sunlight, and she drew the dagger from her quiver into her left hand.

"No magic!" growled Vilkas, and Lenay gave a twinkling laugh. "No, don't worry, I can't use magic to save my life!" the two advanced towards each other, and Lenay's face grew serious.

Vilkas lunged forward and swung his massive sword at her, but she lithely swerved out of the way and whipped her ebony sword across his breast-plate. Drawing his sword back around, he let go with one hand and used to the back of his hand to knock the dagger from her left hand. It clattered across the stones as Lenay kicked at the handsome man's face and drew a hidden dagger from her boot, ignoring the one at her belt. Vilkas swung the flat of his blade around, and the woman leaned backward on one foot, far enough to minimize the wound to a tiny line across her forehead. Lenay flailed her arms, trying to regain her balance, but the Nord man gripped onto her heel and yanked her foot towards him, throwing her flat on her back.

Vilkas brought down the sword on the cobblestones where Lenay had lain a few seconds before, but now she rolled into his feet and sent him collapsing down atop her. Drawing back her knees, she slammed her feet into his rock-hard stomach and heaved him off, before leaping away from him and out of his arm-reach. As the man struggled back up, the dagger whistled through the air between his arm and chest, and he flinched in surprise, before standing and kicking the dagger away before Lenay lunged for it. Vilkas swung once again, and she spun away before dancing back and drawing her own red line across his cheek with her black blade. He snatched out at the sword with gloved hands and yanked it out of her grip, tossing it behind him.

Lenay swore loudly and yanked the dagger at her waist out, only to flip it and grab it by the blade. She clubbed the surprised man across the jaw with the hilt before she turned and used her free hand to deflect the reacting downward swing into the cobblestones. Vilkas swore as she jammed the hilt against the hand holding the sword, causing him to drop it, and then leaped up as he charged at her. She tumbled over his shoulder, getting the wind knocked from her lungs, and the man skidded to a halt. He laughed, but it sounded forced.

"I think you might have won, lassie. But was it really necessary to club me?" he rubbed his sore jaw as she gasped for breath. Farkas and Aela stood paralyzed on the porch, mouths hanging open at the fierce, quick battle.

"Yeah… There's a small chance that if I cut you with it, you'd die immediately. There are more than a few interesting stories that come with this little guy, trust me," Lenay waved the small blade around in her hand, then shoved it back into its sheath. Farkas raised his eyebrows and walked out from the porch.

"No one laugh, but I think I've heard of that blade. Mehrune's Razor, it's a daedric artifact. But it was destroyed a long time ago." Farkas's brow was furrowed.

"That's a story for another time. But I'm willing to tell you about the time I stabbed a dragon with my bow!" Lenay grinned, and Aela giggled. All four turned to walk inside as Lenay began the story.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, here is the second chapter! Every week I will attempt to put up two chapters. All the 'your story has been added to so-and-so's favorites has been really encouraging, so thanks for that, guys! And, if the mood crosses you, please review! Pointers are excellent!

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><p>Later that night, the black-haired woman laid in the living quarters with the other new companions, listening to their quiet breathing, and, with some, obnoxiously loud snores. To Vilkas's distaste, Lenay had been welcomed warmly into the Companions by their Harbinger, Kodlak. She didn't let her bother it too much; joining the Thieves Guild had been much the same. At least Mercer Frey was dead now. Brynjolf was probably wondering what was taking this long with just a simple sweep job, but most likely assumed she was just out killing dragons.<p>

It would never occur to him that she had managed to get tangled up with the Companions. It would have crossed his mind first that she could be dead. Or a ballerina.

Athis shifted across the room while Njada continued snoring. Lenay sighed and flopped onto her back, staring wide-eyed up at the dark ceiling. She could just make it out, but only because a candle was lit in the hall. Lenay just couldn't sleep; she wasn't used to sleeping with other people in a big room like this. The wilderness was always quiet save for late night rustles, and the sounds of people in the Ragged Flagon Cistern were drowned out by the gentle dripping of water, and distant sounds of the city above.

Frustrated, the Nord heaved herself off of the cot and slipped into her leather ranger boots. Her whole armor consisted of ranger attire, from her bow and quiver to the cloak and hood stuffed into her bag, that somehow the Companions had managed to find in the dark. Padding out on silent hunter's feet, she climbed the stairs and emerged into the empty mead hall. The embers glowed softly in the fire pit, and Lenay sat beside it, warming her bare hands and feet. Her Bosmer mentor probably would have told her to go out and hunt something to tire herself out, but she didn't really think the guards would appreciate a heavily armed woman going out to hunt at midnight, only to return an hour later.

Picking up a small stick lit with a tiny flame, she watched the fire slowly eat down the twig and considered her options. 1. She could stay here and tack a bit more honor onto her name than just killing dragons, 2. She could travel to Markarth and actually do the sweep job, then return back to a warm Brynjolf, and 3. She could go immerse herself in the civil war. The third was definitely out; she wasn't ready to mess with political affairs.

And, she was willing to admit to herself, she needed to begin a slow weaning of the Thieves Guild. They needed a full-time leader like Brynjolf to lead them, not a never-present Dragonborn who was too busy to give more than a pat on the shoulder.

That left only one option.

Vilkas couldn't sleep. His wolf blood was boiling, and straining to gain a little control. Something about that woman was different, and it grated against his ability to sleep. Something about her fighting abilities, the way she moved like a ghost through quiet halls, her ability to one moment command the conversation and then fade into a shadow, and, the most annoying, the way she disarmed him with her quick, calculated moves during the swordplay.

Vilkas groaned and ran a hand through his scraggly hair. The beast blood was winning; tonight there would be no sleep.

He stood, walked down the hall, and paused at the stairs. Her scent was here. Recently. Well, he was this far already, maybe she was outside, or better yet, sound asleep in a chair. Steeling himself, he climbed the stairs and swung the door open. He could smell her overpowering pine scent before he saw her, huddled by the fire. Her face was dimly lit by the softly glowing embers, and she seemed to be holding a flaming twig. She stared down at it and twirled it slowly in her fingers.

Vilkas took what he thought was a quiet step forward, but her head snapped up.

"Oh. Vilkas, hello." Her voice was soft, and Vilkas could feel himself talking before he could stop himself.

"Couldn't sleep?" she shook her head, then yelped and dropped the flaming twig; the flame had singed her fingers. Vilkas walked over and sat against one of the pillars behind her, the call of the beast blood now suddenly diminished.

"What were you doing?" questioned Vilkas, and she shrugged. She turned, but the fire behind her cast her face into shadow.

"Thinking. Why couldn't you sleep?" she questioned back, diverting the conversation from her. Vilkas snorted. Not likely she'd take the news of him being a werewolf well. So, instead of answering, he just shrugged. He thought she smiled slightly.

"Couldn't turn you brain off?" here she laughed softly, then continued, "Mine was nice and quiet, by Njada snores quite loudly." Vilkas had to chuckle himself here. She was a known snorer, but It wasn't like she would admit that to anybody.

Lenay sighed softly and drew an aimless pattern on the floor with a long finger. Then she seemed to come to a conclusion, and peered up at him from beneath her black hair.

"Hey, you want to come hunting with me?" she asked, and Vilkas's eyebrows rose up, and, against some part of him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What, now?" he shot back incredulously, and Lenay shrugged again, before replying, "Why not?" Vilkas stared at her for a moment, and shrugged back.

"Might as well. Meet back up in five minutes?" Lenay nodded in agreement, and they both went to gather their gather.

And, fifteen minutes later, they both stood outside the city, Lenay bundled in her cloak with her hood pulled up over her head and Vilkas wearing his savage-looking wolf armor. The woman's bow was notched with an arrow, and the man had his characteristic greatsword, which she looked at skeptically.

"You're going to try and kill an elk with _that _massive thing?" she asked, arching a fine black eyebrow. "Who says it's for elk?" growled Vilkas in response, and the Nord woman had to hold back a light peal of laughter. "Touché." She snorted instead, and the two began walking out onto the tundra.

It wasn't long before they had traveled long enough to bring them upon a young buck, completely unaware of the danger watching him from the next hill. Lenay could feel Vilkas watching her critically as she drew her powerful bowstring back and crouched. She looked down the arrow shaft, breathing deeply, and waited for the buck to raise his head again. The young stag raised his head, and Lenay sighted his dark eye. Breathing deeply one more time, she released the arrow, and watched the buck tumble down the hill a few seconds later.

"Looks like I got something for you to carry home, Vilkas," smirked Lenay rising from her crouch and skipping down the hill. Hearing the warrior huff behind her, she allowed herself a small laugh. Sprinting down the hill the buck had been on, she spotted his dark form splayed out at the bottom, unmoving.

When she came within five feet of the elk, she halted and watched for a moment, waiting to see if his flank still rose and fell. Confident her target was dead, she lifted his head by the antlers and inspected her shot as Vilkas tromped down the hill. She cursed as she got a good look at it, and Vilkas flopped down beside her.

"What's your problem? You got it directly in the eye, lass!" the man exclaimed, peering closer. She only groaned.

"My mentor would kill me for this…. Look, you see how the arrow shaft splintered a little? That's because I was about an inch off and I scraped along the bone. Crap." The woman tilted the elk's head back and forth for Vilkas to see better, then gripped the end of the arrow and yanked it roughly from the buck's skull, bringing guts out with it. She made disgusted sounds and wiped the arrow off on the grass, then inspected it before throwing it to the side.

"Now it's worthless. Won't get a straight shot with it again." Vilkas watched in silence as she cursed once more, and Lenay peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Sorry. Negative reinforcement really sticks with you." Vilkas had to laugh at this, and swung the young buck over his shoulder.

They had been walking back around the city when they happened upon the bandit camp. The bandits sprang up, various sharp objects in hand, and charged. As the buck slipped from Vilkas's shoulders and hit the dirt, he drew the massive sword from his back. Before he could swing at the closest bandit, Lenay fired an arrow straight behind his head. Vilkas saw a sword go cartwheeling past his arm and knew she had shot a bandit about to slash his back open.

The big Nord man's sword was swung and cleaved a bandit's skull in two as Lenay cursed vehemently and fired a shot into a man at point blank range, then swinging out another arrow and stabbing a man through the eye with it, notched it in her bow and took out the only archer. Vilkas narrowly avoided the swing of a dagger that would have taken off half his face, then retaliated with a fearsome punch to the nose, and kicked the man over. Whirling, he stabbed the last bandit through the chest, and used his foot to pushed the man off his sword.

Both of them panted from the sudden fight, and Lenay sank to her knees, pressing a hand to her arm.

"You know what? I really, _really _hate bandits," she hissed and Vilkas groaned. She lifted a bloodied hand and revealed a deep stab in her bicep, and blood darkened the thin leather around it.

"There's a roll of linen in my bag, could you get it for me?" she pleaded, and Vilkas turned and stomped to the bag. Had she not stopped that bandit that had managed to sneak up on him, she would not have been stabbed. Somehow this really irritated him. He dug around through the random items in her bag until he came upon the white roll of linen.

He dropped his greatsword and stomped back over, pushing away her hand when she tried to take it from him.

"No," he growled, "Let me. You really shouldn't have distracted yourself with the one behind me, you know. Crazy lass." He expertly bandaged her wound, then leaned back and glared at her.

"You know, if you were lying earlier about not being able to use magic, now would be a good time to come clean. I haven't even got a healing potion on me," the big man's brow was furrowed, and Lenay giggled shakily.

"Nope, wasn't lying." She paled as Vilkas tightened the bandage, and hissed, "Wish I was."

When Vilkas attempted to slide his arms beneath her and pick her up, she swatted at him. "No! I didn't do a crappy shot on that buck for nothing! Take the damn deer!" she climbed to her feet and pointed with her good left arm at the deer until the man grudgingly slung it over his shoulder.

"Kodlak is going to kill me. Worse, Aela is going to shoot me in the back," he growled at her, and snatched the bow from her limp fingers. "C'mon, don't overburden yourself. We need to get back to Jorrvaskr." The big man commanded, and Lenay drew back her lips and hissed at him like a cat. She laughed at the expression that elicited.

They staggered into Jorrvaskr just as everyone was having breakfast. When Aela saw them, her face darkened and she stomped up the stairs.

"What is _wrong_ with you? _Look_ at her! She's practically _bled_ to death, you _icebrain! _I can't believe you took her hunting at _midnight!_ We had _no idea_ where you were until we finally found the guard who let you two out! Vilkas, what were you _thinking!_ And how in _Sovngarde_ did she get _stabbed?" _at the end of each sentence the angry ginger swatted at him, and the big man just stood there dirtied and bloodied, an elk hanging from his back, and took it patiently.

As Aela continued yelling at Vilkas, Lenay spoke up. "Guys? Aela? Vilkas? I think I'm going to…" and the woman fainted, stopped inches from the floor by Farkas, who had been watching and recognized the swaying that precursors dropping like a rock.

Kodlak, stood with crossed arms as Farkas and Aela carried the limp woman to the infirmary, and Vilkas walked almost cheerfully over after giving the buck to Vignar to be skinned. Even Kodlak yelling at him was better than Aela. A giant yelling at him was better than Aela.


	3. Chapter 3

Alrighty - This chapter is about half as long as the other two, but I wanted to cut it in half and frankly, I'm not feeling very well =P

Also, big thanks to WhisperMoon1999 and to Harold3456 (really, those are things I really will try to take into account in the future, thanks!, although that one 'negative reinforcement' is supposed to be Lenay talking about her old trainer ^.^ my fault it didn't come across that way!)

Enjoy, everyone! =D

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><p>The next day, after Aela had huffed around and managed to procure about a dozen healing potions, Lenay was up and about again. She sat with a mug of warm milk on the porch, much to the laughter of others, until she replied; "Look, shut your traps about it, or I'll pour boiling water down your pants!" at which point they took her seriously and dispersed.<p>

Njada and Aela were exchanging fighting techniques, and the Skyforge was unusually busy with sounds of metal being abused. Farkas emerged onto the porch and flopped onto the chair next to Lenay's. He smiled and tousled her hair, earning him a venomous look.

"Don't even ask if I feel better, cause I might smother you tonight with your own pillow." She growled, and the gray-eyed man chuckled.

"Wasn't planning on it lassie. Just here to offer a job," he smacked his lips at the end as Lenay shifted a little to face him.

"What is it and where is it?" Lenay demanded, setting down her mug. In the courtyard, Aela cussed at Njada as she was smacked with a shield.

"We want you to go intimidate a fellow. He's been snooping around Whiterun, and we don't want his kind here. The name's Brynjolf, and he's in Riften." Farkas informed her, and watched her face as it twitched a little. Before he could ask what was wrong, her face stretched into a tiny forced-looking smile.

"Yeah, sure, I'll do it. I have an idea of who you're talking about. I'll leave tomorrow." Her voice was slightly strained, and she turned her golden brown eyes back to the courtyard, avoiding his eyes.

"Okay… Great!" Farkas rumpled her hair again and stood up, but she ignored him, running a finger in circles around the rim of her mug.

He paused outside the door and looked over his shoulder at her. Shoulders slumped and head resting against one fist, she looked almost… apprehensive. Farkas shook his head and walked into the mead hall.

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><p>And so Lenay arrived in Riften within two days with a little help from a water skin full of hot mead. Before walking into the city, she stopped at the stables and stroked the palomino's mane. Frost nuzzled her hair and nickered softly in greeting. Lenay laughed as she looked him over. The stable groom must have been exercising him well enough; he hadn't gained an inch of extra fat.<p>

Patting the stallion's long face one more time, she walked into Riften with her head high. A few guards visibly paled beneath their helms when they saw her, and a few turned on their heel and walked hurriedly away from her dangerous smile.

This hadn't been so when she had first joined the Thieves Guild, no, it had been quite different. The Guild was laughable then, a small, quiet nuisance too remote to even clean out of the Ratway. Now was a whole other story. She hadn't planned to go into the house and kill somebody; it was her own fault for not watching the house more carefully.

It had fallen dark hours before, and Lenay had jacked the window open with little difficulty. Outside, the trees rustled pleasantly as the wind grew a little stronger. Sneaking through the house, pocketing any gold she happened upon, working her way to the _real _valuables, she happened upon the bedroom of the housecarl. Curious to what the housecarl had hidden away in his chests, she swung the door open all the way and came face to face with the man. Surprised, panicking, and unarmed, she shouted at him.

"Yol, TOOR SHUL!" Lenay felt her throat dry as the fire rushed from her mouth. The housecarl flew back into the opposite wall, on fire, and did not get up again. Lenay clapped a hand across her mouth and stared down at his body. This was not good.

When the Thane thundered downstairs, she was forced to kill him too. Oh boy, was she _not _getting paid for this job. She quickly patted down his body and happened across his Thane's badge, a rather wicked-looking ebony blade. For the first time that night, Lenay had smiled.

She left the house without the valuables she was assigned to steal for three reasons; it pointed a finger at the Dark Brotherhood instead of her own guild, the Guild could send someone else in to nick them, and because some deep, dark part of her wanted people to see her with a dead man's blade, and to know that _she _did it.

And know they did. Except now, they feared her, and what she would do if given the knowledge of who snitched on her. Fear is a powerful tool, and Lenay had gained the fearful respect of everyone in Riften overnight. Of course, Brynjolf was furious, and while in front of the others he only shot her glares, alone he gave her a loud and ferocious scolding. Lenay repented, but the part of her that had influenced her into taking the blade bubbled beneath the surface, always waiting for its next chance.

Lenay trudged down the stairs of the Ragged Flagon, and sighed as the talking was replaced with the sound of dripping water. Vex stood and cleared her throat, her nearly white hair damp with canal water.

"Lenay. We heard a woman was hung by bandits. She had your description, and… well, Brynjolf is probably going the squeeze the life from you when he sees you." Vex took a long swig from her shot glass when she finished, keeping her eyes locked on Lenay's.

"Stories do tend to get a little exaggerated, don't they?" questioned the dark-haired woman in return, tilting her head up and exposing the fading ring of bruise around her neck. Already, she could feel herself reverting to a character that fit in with the thieves and those that lurked beneath the city.

"Ouch. Well, I suggest you go in and talk to Brynjolf before he drinks himself to death, lass," Delvin said somberly through his thick accent. Lenay nodded in response and ran a hand through her hair. She padded through the secret door and then into the Cistern.

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><p>Brynjolf sat hunched over Mercer's old desk, staring into the dark brew beneath him. It was getting cold, but the bronze-haired man wasn't drinking for the warmth. <em>The Cistern's awfully quiet for this time of day, <em>he mused.

That awful thought was welling up again, the one that had made him revert to the ale in the first place. Growling, he knocked the tankard off the desk and onto the cobblestones. It sprayed its dark contents across the stones before bouncing in the water and floating. _She's gone, Brynjolf. Get a hold on yourself! _Brynjolf let his head fall against the desk, trying not to think.

A quiet voice sounded from above him; "Brynjolf?" the man didn't even stir.

"Go away, Vex." He rumbled into the desk, but he felt a hand on his arm.

"Brynjolf. I have a much different personality and facial features than Vex does. Icebrain." The voice came again, rather sarcastically. Brynjolf yanked his head up and stared right into Lenay's golden eyes.

He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the surprised woman, dragging her halfway across the desk and squeezing her tight. After a few seconds of breathing into her hair, he was interrupted by her muffled voice; "Brynjolf, I nearly choked to death two weeks ago, I'm not keen on repeating the experience."

Brynjolf laughed and released her. She slid back to the other side of the desk, gasping a little. Then her face wrinkled and she waved a hand in front of her face.

"When I actually do meet my untimely demise, don't hit the whiskey so hard. Gods, you smell!" she took a step away from him while Brynjolf stared at her.

"I can't believe your actually here. What happened, lass? You've been gone so long!" he was slurring slightly from the mead, and the woman glared at him sharply.

"First I was going around clearing off some dragons, but then I walked straight into an ambush and got dragged behind a horse. You really think somebody could kill me by _hanging _me? Brynjolf, you know better!" she huffed and placed both hands on her hips.

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><p>As they caught up with each other, Rune, Sapphire, and Thrynn gathered around to listen as well. From the shadows near the secret entrance into the graveyard, a pair of eyes watched. They were dark, and the rest of the owner's pale face and hair were hidden by a black and red cowl, tucked into a high-necked leather suit.<p>

A second pair of eyes appeared next to hers, although much lower. A high pitched voice came from this one, a child's voice. "Will you make her an offer?" the shorter one asked, and the other turned to look down at her.

"We'll see, Babette. We'll watch and see."


	4. Chapter 4

Hello, fellow people of Earth! (I could have gone dorky there, give me a break) Well, the story is coming along faster than I expect with the lack of homework and all that, so here is the fourth chapter! (By the way, Sin of the Fallen... I'm lost and clueless and could use a little clarification on what that means? XD Thanks)

Thanks to those who have favorited, its really encouraging to (what seems like to me) see such a great response! Please review if the mood strikes you ^.^ !

Enjoy!

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><p>Farkas was running from a giant.<p>

"YOU ICEBRAIN!" screamed Aela, sprinting just to his right, pumping her arms as she tried to outrun the angry giant.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ARE SO INCREDIBLY SIMPLEMINDED! WHEN I SAID TO KEEP QUIET, _THEN _YOU ASK QUESTIONS? REALLY, FARKAS? REALLY?" Her last curse at him was cut off by the giant's roar.

Farkas only glared at her, too winded from his heavy armor to do much more. They had originally been out to clear a cave of bears. The giant's camp had just happened to be in their way. And the giant just happened to be rather a buffoon. And Aela just happened to enjoy playing tricks on large, buffoonish creatures that could crush her; like trolls, or mammoths. Or giants.

Of course Farkas had to talk. It was his way, and he blamed Aela for not just shooting a steel arrow through the thing's skull instead of shooting charred skeevers out of its hands. But now wasn't exactly the best time for sulking.

The pair reached a steep hill and groaned in unison. This was going to be hell to climb. They dug their feet into the grass as well they could and propelled themselves up the steep incline. A startled fox beneath Farkas's feet burst out and crashed into his leg, breaking his stride and sending him crashing face first into the hill. He picked himself up as quickly as possible and spat out clods of dirt. Aela paused, nearly to the top, and shouted encouragement to him with desperate eyes.

The big many unsheathed his massive sword and turned. His blue-gray eyes flickered quickly over the giant and back to his own position, calculating. Maybe his tongue wasn't quite as good as spinning tales or flattering nobles as was his twin's, but he had been fighting beasts like this since he was thirteen. That had to count for _something, _surely.

As the giant began climbing with heavy steps up the hill, Farkas took a running leap and raised his sword above his head in midair, a roar coming from his throat. The giant roared in return and tried to club Farkas out of the air. Farkas's long hair whipped in the breeze of the club as it skimmed by his body and spun into the ground.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the big man's flight ended as he slammed his massive Skyforge-steel sword halfway through the giant's head before the strong steel snapped in half.

The giant snarled one last time and fell forward as Farkas hit the ground with a heavy thud, driving his armor into his chest and the wind from his lungs.

Aela bounded lithely down the slope like a deer, her bow still in her left hair as she vaulted over the giant's scarred chest.

"Farkas?" a note of hysteria pierced her voice, and she continued, "Farkas, are you okay?" she stood with limp arms beside him as he got up and winced, patting at his stomach. She leaped forward, tearing at the straps of his chest plate.

"Talos! Did he get in a direct hit?" she swore viciously, and looked up at him in confusion when he swatted her away. He doubled over, making it impossible for her to see his face through his hair.

"No…" he grunted. "Just… hungry!" he stood back up straight, and cackled loudly as Aela's face darkened.

"Heheheh. Admit it, Aela. I… heheh… got you. You should have seen your face! Ahh…." He wiped tears from her eyes as she turned on her heel and stormed away. Farkas followed, still

chuckling, leaving behind the now-useless broken sword embedded in the beast's head.

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><p>The mead hall of Jorrvaskr was a loud, drunken brawl. Or at least it sounded like one, to Athis and some other non-Nords living in Whiterun. It was only the revelers' singing, however.<p>

They sang for the honor of Farkas, who had somehow managed to break his sword halfway through the giant's head that had been chasing them. No surprise there. Aela loved pissing off giants. Vilkas smirked over his drink as Ysolda hung on his twin brother's arm.

Skjor shook his head next to the dark-haired man.

"I love her, but for the life of me, I can't understand exactly why she can't just shoot the cursed things dead on sight instead of causing things like… well, like this!" Skjor said of Aela, who, despite her earlier feelings, was cheering Farkas on as well, with more amusement than the others.

Vilkas tapped his tankard to Skjor's in silent agreement; it was unreasonable to try and scream over this crowd. He turned back to watch Farkas get drunk. Maybe tonight he was having fun, but tomorrow morning would be another story. Or at the rate this celebration was going, tomorrow night. Already it was just past midnight.

He slid back his chair and downed the rest of the fiery ale before standing and elbowing his way to the doors. Once outside, he drew in a long breath of cold, pure air before trotting down the steps and padding his way into the Bannered Mare. Hulda stood at the counter, rubbing down a glass.

"One night, if you please," he requested, tossing ten septims onto the counter. Hulda smiled knowingly.

"I don't like big celebrations either," she told him, sweeping the gold into a coin pouch and closing the drawstring again. She walked out from behind the counter to show him his room.

"Why did you set up an inn in Whiterun, then?" Vilkas snorted, and Hulda grinned and patted his shoulder.

"Because Jorrvaskr is large enough to direct the revelers to. Here's your room, lad. Let me know if you need anything else." Hulda tapped the door to his room with a closed fist, then walked back behind her counter and returned to polishing the glass.

Vilkas sat down to watch a game of gambling, not tired enough to retire. Excepting Nazeem, the table was made up of strangers. A pale-haired Nord man, a tough looking Redguard, and an dark Argonian were rolling dice with the vile merchant. The Nord looked familiar, and his smell made the beast in Vilkas growl territorially.

The man shot him a strange look and then dropped his cards coolly on the table. "I'm out." He growled, and walked hurriedly from the table. The other three glanced at the Companion, Nazeem having at least enough respect to at least nod.

"So, anyway, Nazir. Come back with the job done, I'll pay you handsomely." Nazeem said calmly, dealing the deck. "Of course. Vezeera, please wrap that scaly tail of yours around a chair leg and not my leg. You're squeezing so tightly I can feel the Ace you have stabbing through my calf." Nazir reached under the table and flicked a card at the Argonian with two fingers.

"Sorry, I just assumed. Maybe you should put your leg back in its space, and I wouldn't 'stab' you with my Joker. I was just bringing it back for Cicero, see?" he picked the card up and revealed it to be a Joker, not an Ace.

"My mistake," conceded Nazir good-naturedly, letting his cards drop to the table. "Well, I think I'm out, gentlemen. Nazeem, I'll send someone in a few days to pick up the gold. Good night." He stood and stretched, nodded to Vilkas and followed the first man out the door.

Vilkas stood wordlessly and walked into his room, falling upon the bed limply. What a strange group of characters… he didn't like Nazeem, and the fact they were acting so comradely with the man was suspicious. No one acted comradely with Nazeem. He was just too pompous.

Then there was the strange man who smelled and looked so familiar. He'd have to mull it over when he woke, because his eyelids were shutting of their own accord.

* * *

><p>Lenay dreamed of her old tutor.<p>

Master Torvin had been watching her complete her punishment; suffering through the mind-numbing task of helping the other children with their archery. She really didn't mind their company, but they were _terrible _shots. At the age of nine, she really didn't have the patience for them.

As soon as the quiet bell tinkled, she sprinted to where the aging Bosmer stood. The wood elf looked down at her sternly.

"_You know, you've helped Trenden come a long way. Soon he might pass you."_ He said it with the outmost sincerity, but she could always tell when he was bluffing.

"_Never! He wiggles too much!"_ she argued anyway, sticking out a pink tongue at her master. The Bosmer gave her one of his rare smiles.

"_Run along to dinner. I hear they found a rather magnificent stag. It's 'cut-your-own' night, so hurry. Oh, and Lenayalin?"_ he tacked on, using her extended name her adopted elven mother had given her, _"If you don't want to suffer through that again, I suggest next time you don't splinter the arrow." _

The little girl giggled and then nodded solemnly before sprinting off in her tunic and leggings, running along the shaded stone paths until she was lost in the trees.

Six years later, and the giggling little girl had turned into a charming teenager prone to fits of temper.

The first time she had lost control in front of her tutor surprised him. Torvin had been wandering the paths, peering between the trees to view the small training courtyards, when he came upon the one courtyard.

"_Bugger off, Wuthnir! I'm telling you, why can't you just accept the fact you can't shoot straight, instead of insulting me? You fidget more than a squirrel with a bee up its arse!" _Lenay shouted, her then-usual dark braid coming loose of its bindings.

"_Then you admit you can't wield a sword to save your neck! You look like a praying mantis with that blade!" _taunted the taller Wuthnir, his fair hair falling into sky blue eyes. The teens in the courtyard had long since drawn to the edges, wary of anything that would go flying if a fight broke out.

Torvin had been content to see how the budding warrior had handled it until Wuthnir had sneered, _"You know why Trenden lets her follow him around, everyone? Because she's a whore and-" _he hadn't gotten any further. Lenay screamed in rage and lunged knocking him to the ground and sitting on his chest, proceeded to break his nose, grab his collar, and snarl something too quietly for Torvin to hear into his ear.

Before the idiotic boy had pulled himself into more trouble, Torvin had stepped in. Lenay still bore the memories from that tongue-lashing, but her temper had never cooled. No, it had settled and become more controllable, but it would never cool. That was certain, at least.

Lenay woke wearily, to a stomach-wrenching twinge of guilt. She had told neither the Thieves Guild of the Companions nor vice versa. She _had _told Brynjolf to stay away from Whiterun. And that meant now was the best time to leave.

She dressed quickly and quickly and slipped out before anyone else could wake. Lenay almost regretted not saying a proper goodbye to Brynjolf; he had seen sincerely torn up over her pseudo-death.

Lenay saddled Frost in silence, watching her breath form to mist in front of her lips. Without really meaning to, she brought a finger to trace her jagged scar, running like a tear down her face. Helgen. The fear, the confusion, the black dragon Shouting overhead, the dragon landing and speaking something foreign to her, swiping out his spiked tail, and leaving her this. Sometimes, at night, she dreamed it still bled, and no matter how much pressure she put on it, no matter how many healing potions she took, it oozed a dark black poison that burned her skin and ate away at her soul.

Lenay shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Right now, the Companions were waiting for her. The big dragon would have to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! This chapter I'm going to be introducing another OC into this story, and it might be a little confusing at first, because she's a bit of a werewolf-gone-wrong. You see – well, you'll see.

Sorry for the long wait - I've been really sick; had an awful cough and a sleep-inducing fever, so I mostly didn't write. Just slept.

GothicaBlood - Yeah, I know, =/ It was horrible of me to misrepresent hunters everywhere, but I was really trying to highlight her precision shooting. Won't happen again! =D

ScRaBbLe1 - Thanks! I was really worried she came off as annoying (an a Mary-Sue, goodness forbid!)!

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><p>Lenay could see the city in sight when the man in black robes had screamed something intelligible at her from the next bend. She had enough time to ask what in the gods was he talking about before sparks arced from his fingers and slammed into her chest.<p>

Lenay hit the road with an audible crunch as she heard Frost go galloping away from the robed man. Smart horse. Lenay hissed as she probed her right side through her armor. No way she could tell through it all, but she was fairly certain she had a broken rib or two. That sort of thing happened when one got forced off of a galloping horse.

She staggered off the ground, keeping her right arm plastered to her side. It hurt, but not as much as moving the arm would. The robed man advanced upon Lenay, fingers crackling. Lenay weighed her options. She could Shout, but the force of that may splinter her ribs further. Her other option was to run screaming at the man and proceed to beat him senseless with nothing but her left hand, which, frankly, sounded a little suicidal even to her.

She sucked in a huge, rather agonizing breath and prepared herself. Then something white and huge blurred by her vision and collided with the man, accompanied by chest-vibrating growls and then the sound of tearing.

The great white _thing _turned and met her eyes, a contemplating look on its face. Lenay's mind grasped about for a different explanation to what was in front of her mind before it finally, reluctantly, grasped what was ahead of it.

A horse-sized wolf with a heavily scarred neck and shoulders, emerald green eyes, and… a tattoo? It grew in the wolf's fur, but it seemed to originate in the skin, and Lenay really doubted a dragon would be a natural pattern in the coat of a wolf.

The sheer size of thing worried Lenay. The torn remains of the mage doubly so. _Then it spoke to her._

* * *

><p>"My name is Freya." She said, watching the Nord's reactions. Freya had to give the woman credit; she barely gasped. That could have been her broken ribs though.<p>

Freya stepped forward slowly, until she was close enough to sniff at the woman's pale face. Then she turned and trotted into the bushes, where Frost was munching on a bush contentedly. Horses; useless animals. Freya rolled her eyes as she caught the stallion's reins in her teeth and pulled him back to the woman.

"I'm Lenay," the woman told her as she dug through her saddle bags and pulled out an above-average sized healing potion and chugged it. Freya sat on her haunches and looked around, waiting for Lenay to finish. Here the path was choked with weeds and pressed in upon by shelves of rock. Freya would be much happier on the higher ground, but wasn't sure the horse could climb these shelves to the top. They'd just have to wait for the path to rise.

"Where are you going?" Freya asked, flicking her ears. Talking wasn't as easy as it used to be, but she could still do it. The only three things that remained of herself were her eyes, voice, and that silly dragon tattoo on the back of her neck.

The woman only stared at her and pointed at Whiterun. _Still in shock, I see. At least her ribs feel better, _Freya thought to herself as Lenay clambered onto the horse. Freya loped beside the stallion, and could look him in the eye if she lifted her head and stretched her neck all the way. Not that she would. Even war horses could only take so much.

They started off at a reasonable pace. Something seemed to be bothering the Nord, but Freya waited patiently. When it came to social matters, Freya considered herself the master of patience. She didn't have long to wait until Lenay spoke up.

"Freya… Why did you help me?" her voice was tentative, and she stole a quick glance at Freya with (she thought) golden, rather wolf-like eyes. The she-wolf smiled, baring her whole set of sharp teeth, and chuckled.

"I was lonely. And you smell… different. Not unique like everyone else smells, but unique like you aren't _some_one else, you're… separate. Am I making any sense?" she furrowed her brow as they made their way around a corner.

"No, not really," snorted Lenay, smirking slightly.

"Okay, to try and say it bluntly; you don't smell like a Nord, or a Breton, nor a Redguard, Bosmer, Altmer, or Dunmer. You don't smell like any _people. _You smell wild." The she-wolf wrinkled her muzzle as she finished, "Although I have met some Forsaken who smell 'wild'." Freya made a retching sound in the back of her throat as Lenay mulled that over.

* * *

><p>Within an hour, the path had risen and they were racing across the tundra shelves, Lenay wincing every time Frost bounced too hard, a hand still clamped to her sore side. When Lenay reined in Frost at the entrance to Whiterun (the guards were glaring suspiciously at both her and, with a little more fear, at Freya) and looked doubtfully at the she-wolf.<p>

"…You know, they hardly let me bring a normal sized dog into Whiterun as it is… Don't you think…?" Lenay trailed off, but the wolf only grinned, which made the guards grope their swords.

"I figured. I'll be around. If I don't appear when you come out, I'm either asleep or hunting. Be patient; I'd like to come with you. I have a feeling some good will come of it." Freya patted Lenay's thigh with her muzzle and then loped back down the slope. The guards made relieved sounds.

Lenay walked into Jorrvaskr ten minutes later and raised her eyebrows. It was luncheon time, and the placed already looked trashed. All the Companions looked red-eyed and… hung-over. Except Vilkas; he just raised his mug an inch off the table in greeting as usual. Grouch.

As red-eyed as Farkas was, he got to his feet when he spotted the black-haired woman walk through the doors.

"You missed a great party, Lenay!" he rumbled, and Aela buried her head in her arms on the table.

"Yeah, great party," snarled Aela sarcastically, her voice muffled. Lenay laughed in confusion.

"Talos, I'm gone for four days, and you manage to get yourselves wrecked! What _happened?" _she vaulted the table and sat on the edge, to the right of Farkas, as he told her of his little adventure. Aela spent the whole time snarling to herself into her arms, and the rest of the Companions excused themselves to either sleep or vomit, but Vilkas just stayed where he was and watched them. When Farkas and Lenay had finished cackling about Farkas's trick, Vilkas cut in.

"Is the job done, lass?" he asked, looking as if something else was bothering him.

"Of course. Brynjolf won't be setting foot in Whiterun." Lenay knew her mistake as soon as she said his name. She silently berated herself as she evenly met Vilkas's stony gaze.

"Brynjolf? You know his name?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised, stretching his war paint.

"Well, I had to find him, didn't I? I just kind of picked it up. But, hey, I never did tell you who I met on the way here!" she changed the subject quickly, and Vilkas let it drop.

"Who?" asked Farkas, and Lenay grinned.

"I'll show you."

* * *

><p>Freya had just brought down a caribou when the scent of Lenay wafted up her nose. Sparing a wistful glance at the wasted deer, she turned and loped over a small hill. Freya could see Lenay, standing with a small group of people. Half of them had very recently been very drunk.<p>

Warily, the wolf slowed to a walk and approached with caution. Now that she was closer, she could smell other things. _Interesting _things. That big one had killed a giant, and the ginger female had been with him, and the third had recently been near other people who smelled of death… she'd give it maybe a twelve-hour window. And all three of them smelled of wolf. Freya halted in confusion about ten feet from them, and ignored Lenay when she said something. The smell… they hadn't touched a wolf, or killed a wolf, or happened to own a half-wolf dog… the scent came from them. Then her mage training kicked in. _Werewolves, they've got to be. Best not to say anything until later. _Freya thought to herself, and finally Lenay's words got through.

"Freya, this is Farkas, and Aela, and that's Vilkas." She pointed at them in turn, and Freya nodded. She stepped forward the last ten feet and sniffed them a little harder.

"Hello," greeted Freya, after thoroughly smelling them. Once upon a time, she would have been embarrassed at scrutinizing them so closely, but most of her shame had disappeared. All three flinched as if she had spat in their faces.

"Didn't believe her, huh? Lenay, you did warn them, no?" chuckled the wolf, and Lenay smiled faintly.

"Of course I did!" Lenay growled indignantly, placing her hands on her hips and looking with mock horror at the wolf.

Then Freya snapped her gaze to the east as a slight breeze swam up her nose. The three werewolves did the same, and a faint roar reached them. The roar grew louder. Lenay swore.

"Dammit, I'm not armed!" she hissed, and Vilkas shook his head at her.

"Lass, you get back. You've already been stabbed on my watch; your death isn't going on the list as well." He said matter-of-factly, and the twins pulled massive broadswords of their backs as Aela strung her bow. Freya bared her teeth and watched the skies as Lenay huffed and began to argue with the blue-eyed man.

Nothing stirred in the sky yet.

"Vilkas, I'm not going anywhere!"

Still nothing.

"Lass, if I have to knock you unconscious, I will!"

Empty skies.

"Oh, Talos, don't give me that –"

The dragon swooped down over them, and they all instinctively ducked.

It landed behind them, and Freya was the first to react, closely followed by Aela. As the white wolf lunged over the turf, an arrow sank into the great beast's shoulder. An instant later, Freya slipped under the dragon's head and snarled. Then she leaped upwards and dug her fangs into it's throat.

"Fus… RO DAH!" Shouted Lenay, and Freya swung as the dragon took the brunt of the shout. She could feel the dragon's hot blood dripping out of her mouth as she stood on her hind legs and tried to shake her head back and forth. The dragon was shaking his head as he tried to rid himself of Freya, and she could hear Vilkas and Farkas yelling and roaring as they exerted themselves.

The she-wolf tore a chunk of meat from the dragon's neck and snarled as the steaming blood emptied onto her neck. She retreated from underneath the beast and could see Farkas trying to hack at the dragon's face without being mauled. Freya built up speed, and threw herself against the thing's head as it snapped at the large man, slamming its head off course. She tried to gnaw through the top of its skull, her feet scrabbling against the muzzle of the dragon. The green scales resisted her teeth, and if she were shook much more she might slip and be impaled by its horns. Freya could hear the occasional arrow whistle, and once she felt one skim her paw and '_thunk' _into the eye of the dragon. It roared, and tossed its head upward, practically forcing Freya's teeth through its scales and to scrape against its skull.

"Freya, MOVE!" screamed Lenay, and the wolf heaved herself onto the head of the beast. Then she took off down its back, and threw herself onto its right wing, ripping through it with teeth and claws as Lenay Shouted something unintelligible. A wave of heat hit Freya and was gone again. Arrows speckled the wing's membrane, and Freya's thoughts crossed Aela's welfare. How many arrows did she have left?

One of the twins yelped in pain, and Freya leaped from the wing, making sure to scrape at it with her claws. She raced around the flank of the dragon and narrowly avoided being swiped with its tail, only just dodging. Vilkas was clutching his mangled-looking left arm, and Freya skidded to a halt beside him.

"Vilkas, climb on my back. You know how to ride, yes?" Freya panted heavily, feeling hot blood still slowly seeping through her fur and dripping from her teeth. Vilkas heaved himself, his sword hanging from his right hand, and Freya continued running around the dragon. She neared its wing again, and leaped upon it. Vilkas cried out in alarm, but brought his sword down on the bone, yelling wordlessly.

The dragon roared as Freya scrabbled onto its back. Vilkas had a death grip in her fur with his bad arm, and it was hurting something fierce. The dragon flared its wings, slicing a line across the she-wolf's chest as she fell forward onto a back spike. Climbing back onto her paws, the wolf ran up the dragons spine, and halted at the base of its neck.

Vilkas dropped off her back, and as she ran forward and balanced on the dragon's head, weighing it down, Vilkas brought his sword down on the dragon's neck, severing it halfway. As the dragon convulsed, Freya sank her teeth into the top of its skull. Aela was shouting, and from what the wolf could see, was stabbing the dragon repeatedly with her last arrow. Lenay held a shard of metal, and Farkas stood beside her, holding a matching piece. Freya took a moment to marvel at how much strength it must have took to break his sword before the dragon half-gurgled, half-roared, and collapsed.

The neck wound sprayed Freya with steaming blood as the dragon tumbled to the ground, but she was too weary to move. She could see Vilkas splayed out on the dragon's back, covered in crimson, and Aela sitting stunned on the grass. Suddenly, Freya was aware of a half-dozen aches and pains and scratches. She limped off the beast's head, just in time for its skin to catch fire. Vilkas shouted in alarm and was standing beside her a second later, leaning heavily against her with weariness.

Freya sniffed furiously as an aura lifted from the beast… and swirled into Lenay. She _knew _Lenay was special!

Farkas was lying on his back in a pool of dragon blood, a long scrape running from his temple to his jaw. Vilkas watched him, still leaning on Freya.

Lenay burst out laughing. She dropped the shard of metal and let herself fall back next to Farkas.

"Farkas!" she cackled, "Eorlund is going to kick your ass right off Dragonsreach! Two swords in a week?" she howled in laughter, and Aela joined in, crawling over to lie with her head cushioned on her friend's shoulder.

Freya walked the last few feet with Vilkas still leaning on her, and then flopped down in the space between Farkas and Lenay. She huffed as Vilkas's torso remained propped up on her flank, and his legs rested atop his twin's.

No one mentioned the dragon burning up. Freya knew that would come later, so now she just reveled in her acceptance to this strange pack and tried to ignore her pains.

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><p>*AN - Please, please, tell me what you think of Freya. Have I screwed up the story? *worry face*


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, folks! Well, I've got what I think of as an okay chapter. Nothing special here. Really, it's just filler until I can figure out how to connect some loose ends. Enjoy anyways!

-Thanks to WisperMoon1999 and Sin of the Fallen again, along with zitikka and Zuraka! I really appreciate the input, makes me feel like I should continue!

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><p>That night, Freya and Farkas sat alone in the mead hall, by the fire. The other three had fallen deep asleep as soon as they had wrapped their wounds, and would wake up to dirt-stained blankets in the morning. Freya had refused bandages for her chest wound, but had leaped into the water at the base of Dragonsreach. The guards had given her dirty looks, and scolded the Companions for letting their oversized dog drench them. Freya had snarled at that, and they had paled before shutting up.<p>

Farkas sat cross-legged to the left of the giant she-wolf, and all he could think of was how incredibly _slow _the wolf breathed. For four of his _in_'s and _out_'s she inhaled, and then came the low _whoooooooooooooooooooosh _of her exhalation. The big man eyed her tattoo, just visible at this angle.

"Were you always a wolf?" he blurted out, and Freya turned her head to meet his eyes. A certain sadness lingered in the emerald depths.

"No," she told him after a pause. "Not always. Only five years." Freya took a shuddering breath in. Before Farkas could ask anything else, she launched into her story.

"I was going to be a mage, you know. I was studying at the College of Winterhold. I was only fifteen. While I was there, I made four close friends; Durgan, Telken, Jaegr, and Rhillian. We studied all the schools, but we really excelled in Alteration magic, it was our forte.

"We learned fast. And then Durgan came up with this wild idea. I think maybe he dreamed it. Of course, we were enthralled; Durgan could always charm us so easily. 'Polymorphing', he said. I remember his exact words. 'We could do it, you know. Think of it, of all the things we could do. We could do it. But I need your help.' We all agreed. And we started working.

"Arch Mage Aren ordered us to stop, but we continued on in secret. I think he knew, but he never suspected what would happen; he would have stopped us then. So we wrote the spell. It took us two months, in which we grew closer than ever before. Then, one night as the full moon began to rise, we performed the spell.

"I don't know exactly what went wrong. A student who had been hiding in the bushes was dead, the trees were blasted flat, and we… well, we were like this.

"After the confusion of the first day, we were coping. I think a year went by, and we barely held on to any scraps of our humanity. Durgan was the natural leader of course. But he made some bad decisions, and Rhillian was killed by a group of farmers. She was like a sister to me. Afterwards, I couldn't trust Durgan's judgment, and we often fought. Ever wonder how I got these scars?

"And mid-way through our second year living as giant wolves, I snuck away in the night. I don't know where they are now. Maybe dead, or in the mountains near Morthal. Not Winterhold. That would be too painful." Freya shrugged and trailed off. Farkas patted her furred shoulder softly.

"What's the worst part?" he whispered, eyebrows furrowed. Freya slid down onto her belly and rested her head on her paws.

"I can't cry. When Rhillian died, I wanted so much to grieve for her, to wallow in my own tears. But wolves don't grieve. And they don't cry. They can't. Weak wolves are dead wolves." the giant wolf sighed, and the dying embers in front of her flared a little.

Farkas fingered the bandages on the palm of his hand. When his sword broke (The second so far this week) he had grabbed one of the shards and done considerable damage with just that. Lenay bore a similar mark on her own hand, and the two would bear scars there for years.

_How many fights did she have? _Thought Farkas, eyeing the layered scars crisscrossing through the wolf's fur. Another thought struck him then. _Lenay never told us how she met Freya. _And it was true; how did this wolf-girl come into his life? The big man just listened to her breathe, and wondered about Lenay.

Something about the way she spoke familiarly about the thief Brynjolf struck him as odd. But then, a lot of things about Lenay struck him as odd; she _had _absorbed a dragon's soul, which they had discussed on the walk back from the dragon's bones, with Vilkas and Freya still dripping red. Of course, Vilkas had given Lenay a chewing out for not retreating while Aela mocked him from behind, pulling faces that made all of them struggle to hold in mad post-victory laughter. But also the way Lenay _watched _everything, how her eyes seemed to land wherever his coin purse happened to be on his body, how she saw the little details in the square. 'Oh, Nazeem made a horrible deal back there, did you see?' or 'Ysolda's shoes are stained. Anyone see where she was walking so I don't step in it?' and even 'Carlotta's got a knife. Tiny thing, wouldn't do much damage. I hope it's for Mikael. His music sounds like a dying cat's.'. Little things, things that went unnoticed day-to-day, none of it seemed to escape her. That wasn't the problem, no.

Farkas wondered where she happened to pick up her hobby.

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><p>Astrid missed it. She hardly ever got to go out and kill anybody anymore. That all went to the others, while she had to stay home and make decisions. Joy.<p>

Cicero went flying past her down the stairs, giggling madly, waving something in the air with glee. Astrid had seen that before. Gabrielle shot down the stairs after him, swearing.

"Cicero, if you drop that_ I swear I will KILL YOU! CICERO! _Do you know what that is? That's _unicorn _blood! _CICERO!" _Her robes flying out behind her, she disappeared around the corner after Cicero. Astrid smirked as Nazir came from the corner the others had disappeared around.

"I'm not sure stealing from Gabrielle was wise. She's creative." Nazir shrugged and leaned against the table beside Astrid.

"Yes, she is… Nazir, I think I'm going out." She wiped a strand of blond hair from her face and gauged his reaction, purposely leaving her intent vague. Nazir just turned to look at her.

After a pause, he spoke up. "Are you going to tell Arnbjorn?" he questioned nonchalantly, and was rewarded with a snort.

"He knows I can take care of myself. I don't need to tell him." Huffed the woman, but Nazir just frowned at her.

"The man's scary when you go off too long, Astrid. Just tell him for once. For the sake of all of us." Nazir sighed at the same time Astrid did, and they let out a little laugh. Then Astrid groaned. Silently she trudged down the steps and into the main cavern. Nazir smiled to himself.

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><p>Aela walked silently next to Lenay, both with their bows strung and ready. So far, they hadn't <em>seen <em>any elk, but Freya promised one was right ahead. The wolf's belly fur dragged on the tundra as she slunk slowly forward in her hunting crouch. Aela walked last for more reason then just guarding their backs; she wasn't sure she trusted herself enough to keep her arrow in her bow if the wolf made any sudden moves.

The white wolf's tail lashed; her signal that the elk was around this shelf of rock. Then she took another step forward and yelped. Her foot fell through the ground, and she dug in her hind feet as she slid forward. Lenay yelled and threw her bow to the side, latching onto Freya's tail and pulling back. Aela pulled her arrow tighter and held it ready; this seemed as good a place for an ambush as any.

The she-wolf panted heavily as both she and Lenay peered at the ground. As Aela walked closer, she could see they weren't staring at the _ground, _but into a pit lined with sharp wooden spikes. An elk lay there, pierced through.

"That was close," commented Aela, eyebrows raised. Lenay laughed, "You don't say?" she replied sarcastically, and the redhead stuck her tongue out at her. Freya shot a glance at Lenay.

"For future reference, don't grab me by the tail. It's a bit like grabbing you by the hair." Freya swished her tail closer and tucked it under her belly. The black-haired woman apologized, and they continued staring into the pit.

A door opened into the wall of the pit, presumably leading to a hunter or bandit hideout. Aela withdrew from the two as they started murmuring quietly in speculation. She watched the mouth of the tiny valley they stood in, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Something here wasn't right.

Aela couldn't smell anything on the breeze, but she could definitely feel someone watching her. And then her bow was blasted from her hands. She couldn't help but shout when the fireball snatched her bow away, and she whipped around.

There on the hill stood a stooped figure; a woman, Aela thought. The wolf blurred by her, snarling something. It took a second for Aela's ears to catch her words, _'Hagraven'._

Aela hissed and sprinted up the hill after the wolf, drawing an arrow from the sheath at her back and planning to stab the hagraven with it. Even she could admit this wasn't the best plan. She could sense Lenay right behind her, and then Lenay's hands were shoving her into the earth as she yelled something. Aela's ears were filled with roaring as she went down, and then felt the ground rumble beneath her. A heavy body landed on her, then rolled off, and Aela rolled over. Freya was half on-fire, making a horrible noise as she dug her paws into the hill and got to her feet. The redhead could now hear the hag screaming, but she stumbled down the hill and pushed on the wolf's back.

"Freya, you've got to roll! Get on the ground and roll!" she yelped, and Freya dropped with a strangled howl and rolled the rest of the way down the hill, extinguishing the flames. Aela turned and watched the hagraven shoot a spell right at her feet. She had time to swear before she felt the ground drop out from beneath her.

Aela didn't know how the wolf reacted so fast, but Freya's massive head was suddenly in the hole with her, before she'd dropped an inch further. And wrapped her jaws around her shoulder. There was a split second where Aela's armor held up against the wolf's lethal teeth. Then they were buried base deep, and the woman was dragged upward.

As she curled her fingers in the grass and heaved upwards, she could feel heat pouring down her side. She knew she should be feeling incredible pain, but she just felt tired. Aela felt ground around her once more and let her head fall back. Talos, she was tired.

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><p>Lenay kicked at the frozen hagraven until it broke into chunks. Then she let out a long sigh and turned to survey the damage.<p>

"Aela?" she cried, seeing the woman lying sheeted in blood as the wolf above her circled in panic even as Lenay could see the horrific burns covering her left side. Lenay rushed forward, pressing her fingers against the bubbling wound. _It's not enough! _She cried in her mind frantically, and finally understood the shape of the wound.

A gaping hole loomed at Aela's feet, and a thick smear of blood on the grass led right to it. _Oh. Freya wasn't trying to kill her. _

"Aela, Aela, stay with me!" cried Lenay as the woman's eyes fluttered. Aela looked up at her weakly with green eyes, a slight frown on her face.

"Lenay… the wolf, the wolf… Freya is _glowing." _Lenay realized Aela was staring above her when a hot drop of something splattered on her neck. Lenay leaned away, and then gasped as Freya appeared in her vision.

The white wolf _was _glowing, with a warm golden glow. The wolf leaned forward and touched her muzzle to Aela's pale forehead. Lenay could feel the skin beneath her fingers squirming, and she snatched her hands back. It was impossible to see through the blood, but she could only assume that Freya was somehow healing Aela. Then Freya collapsed beside the prone redhead, who's color was returning.

Lenay stood on the red grass with blood-stained hands, looking around helplessly as the hole in the ground snapped shut with a bang, and a half-dead woman slept peacefully next to a burned, possibly comatose wolf. Looks like the rest of her day was going to be just _fun. _

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><p><em>*AN - Well... tell me what you think of this so-so chapter, thanks ^.^_


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay, folks! I spent a few days squinting at Word, just wondering what on Earth I was going to write, and just muddling through. Write-write-eat-sleep-write-eat-eat-read-read-write, you know? Maybe you don't, that's okay. I just hate writers block.

Well, hope you enjoy! Please review, if you like what you see!

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><p>Lenay didn't remember much of the trip back. It was a sort of horrible nightmare; dragging Aela a few feet, then going back for Freya, who weighed <em>so <em>much more. Never being able to turn her head for a second, in fear a saber cat or a pack of wolves would swoop down and nab which ever she had her back turned on. All Lenay was really certain about at that moment was that she was never, _ever _going to use her shoulders again. No; she'd just retire them right then and there. A person could retire their shoulders, right? Not that the rest of her body was any happier.

Vaguely she could hear deep voices whispering over her, perhaps discussing her condition. Slowly, ever so slowly, her focus returned. Lenay cracked her eyes open.

"Hey," smiled Farkas, and Lenay could feel his big hands surrounding her right with warmth. The woman groaned slightly as she shifted, and used her free hand to wipe at her face.

"Never mind… I hate hagravens more than bandits. I've never been so sore in my entire life." Lenay moaned, and Farkas chuckled.

"Aela and Freya are alright. They only woke up about an hour ago, and we've been filled in on your little adventure." The big man patted her hand, and she laughed bitterly.

"Good. Not that it was much of a story. We went out, tried to hunt, got lured into a trap, and I ended up lugging a full-grown woman in iron armor and a horse-sized wolf halfway across Whiterun. If it was any more uphill I would've given up and killed them both." Lenay snorted at the end, and Farkas patted her once more.

He helped her up out of bed, and when she stood, she arched her back like a cat and started doing a series of elaborate stretches that made Farkas hurt just looking at her. He leaned against the doorframe and watched curiously as she twisted back and forth.

"How in the world did you ever get so flexible?" he asked in awe.

"No thanks to me," laughed Lenay, "My tutor insisted. He wanted well-rounded students. Figuratively. When I left, I kept on doing the exercises as habit, and it's gone on to save me a few times. It's amazing what being flexible will do for you," she grinned, standing back up straight.

"Interesting tutor," said Farkas as he led her out into the hall, eyebrows raised. Lenay remained silent a second before answering, reminiscing.

"Yes. I went to a… special school. I learned a bit of history, and how to read and write, but mostly I was taught things that would help me stay alive. Some days I wish I could go back…but there wouldn't be anything there for me." The black-haired woman stared into space until Farkas's voice yanked her back.

"Why not? Surely your tutor would like to see you again," he prompted, and the two stopped in the middle of the hall. Lenay shook her head sadly.

"Master Torvin could fight off everything. Everything, that is, except old age. Maybe I'll go see his resting place sometime. He was the only father I've ever had." Lenay dropped into a whisper in her last sentence, feeling a momentary flash of grief squeeze her heart.

Lenay hugged herself, feeling Farkas's eyes on her. With Vilkas it would have felt judgmental, calculating… but with Farkas she only felt his sympathy. She sniffed slightly, and then continued on down the hall, Farkas's hand resting on her shoulder.

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><p>Vilkas was peeking at Freya's burns from the corner of his eye. He sipped (rather than chugged) his mead, more for visibility issues than for actual politeness. From his vantage point, all Vilkas could see of Aela was her elbow from where it stuck out behind Skjor. He'd stood by and helped Tilma clean the blood from the woman, and he'd seen the giant crescent scar. And <em>that <em>was the reason he didn't stare too closely at the big she-wolf.

Still, the burns looked horrific. The fur was burned away, leaving the angry red skin marred and blistered. Vilkas looked up as a warm breath brushed against his hair. Freya was leaning over him, her eyes questioning. Fortunately for her, her face had been untouched by the flames, and her startlingly-green eyes were just fine.

"Tell me, Vilkas, while everyone is too busy talking to overhear… Are you a werewolf?" her Imperial accent showed through a little on her o's, and the man remembered to conversation with his brother on the wolf's past. He wasn't sure he bought it, but the little things tended to convince him, like the way she sometimes lifted her paw as she spoke, as if she were trying to speak with her hands.

Before he could answer, a quiet cheer rose from the Companions, and Vilkas turned to watch Lenay walk stiffly to her chair and then slowly sit down. Farkas booted Athis out of the chair next to Lenay and fell back into it, and then laughed as the woman said something lost in the noise of the hall. Vilkas felt a twinge of jealousy that he quickly put down to not knowing what the joke was, and turned back to Freya, who had continued watching him.

"Yes. Lenay doesn't know, and don't tell her. Don't know what she'd do." Vilkas finished the last of his mead and placed the empty tankard firmly on the table. Freya nodded, and flicked her ears. Then she tensed.

"Vilkas… come outside with me for a moment," the wolf requested, and stood when Vilkas nodded. He opened the door for her (it was incredibly hard to open a door with teeth, he reckoned) and then they were behind Jorrvaskr. Freya's hackles raised up along her back, and her neck ruff slowly rose up as she stood stiffly in front of him.

Vilkas stood at the ready, allowing the wolf inside the swell out his cage a little, but he felt nothing. Whatever the problem was, the beast inside didn't think it was a threat. Freya obviously felt differently.

Just when he thought he should call Freya back inside, a shadow moved. It moved forward, and the figure stepped into the light. A young man, a boy, even, stood tall in the light. He looked foreign, with fine features contrasting with a strong jaw. Ear length blond hair fell into gray eyes, and his muscled arms were marred with countless scars. Then he smiled at the wolf, who had frozen.

Vilkas thought the smile set her off. With a snarl she launched herself at him, and for a second she was silhouetted by one of the moons before she crashed into the boy. The big man drew his sword when a loud _crack _split the air, but was quickly backing up.

A black wolf wrestled with the white wolf now, and then the two were apart, bristling all over.

"_How?" _Freya roared, and the other wolf growled at her.

"If you'd just let me explain, Freya, I'll tell you!" he barked, his ears flat against his massive skull. Vilkas let his sword arm hang beside him, even though his instincts were rearing for him to charge now and ask questions later. If he'd thought Freya was big, this wolf was _enormous. _

They breathed hard for a couple of seconds, regaining their breathes, when the black wolf started.

"First thing first, Telken and Jaegr are alright. They left a short while after you did. I think they might be in Cyrodil." He paused until Freya gave a sharp nod.

"Second thing, is I can't… I can't make you human again." He flinched when Freya snarled, lashing his tail back and forth in agitation.

"It's not that I won't!" He cried out quickly, "It's that I can't! You've got to do it yourself. For me, it took a moment of intense panic, and only then was I able to switch back and forth between human and wolf." He crouched there on the ground until Freya relaxed. They stared through each other's chests, not challenging with their eyes, like Vilkas knew to do when he was around Angry-Aela.

Then, with a blur of motion and another sharp _crack, _the boy was hugging Freya around the neck while she whimpered and wagged her tail. Vilkas let his gaze wander the courtyard and proceeded to pick food from his teeth, not sure he should be there.

"Durgan, you idiot. What are you doing here?" Freya asked when they pulled apart again.

"I heard of a gigantic wolf who spoke that fought a _dragon!" _Durgan laughed, "And I knew it had to be you! No one else would be crazy enough besides the Dragonborn himself!"

"Herself," corrected Vilkas without thinking, leaning against one of the overhang's columns. The boy turned and stared at him hostilely, suddenly suspicious.

"The Dragonborn is a woman," he said, not really sure why he was purposely attracting the attention of a wolf.

"And who are you?" Durgan growled arrogantly, and Vilkas was sure he saw Freya roll her great green eyes.

One of the doors behind him opened and light flooded out, and then from the corner of his eye he saw Lenay walk up beside him before the door swung shut and the light cut out again.

"Who is this?" she asked innocently, but Vilkas could make out her tense shoulders.

"He's an old friend, Lenay. His name is Durgan," Freya replied, bumping the boy with her shoulder when he tried to speak.

"Well, I don't mean to break up the party, but I'm leaving Whiterun with Farkas, for Dustman's Cairn. We've got a fragment of Wuuthrad to reclaim!" she slapped the hilt of her sword at the end, punctuating her sentence.

"Do you need help?" Freya asked, but Lenay shook her head.

"No, you catch up with your friend. Plus, I'm pretty sure Skjor wants this done with as few people as possible. Sometimes I think he's worse than you, Vilkas," Lenay said, turning around and patting Vilkas on the shoulder as she walked back inside.

"Thanks?" he called after her, and Freya laughed.

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><p>As soon as Farkas heaved the cast iron door open with his shoulder, Lenay knew this was going to leave a bad taste in her mouth. The smell of death rose from the deeper recesses of the crypt, and several draugr lay on the floor. She kept her bow loaded and the string pulled back. Once you'd had been in a crypt once, you learned caution fast. Or you became another dancing skeleton in the depths.<p>

The first time she had seen a draugr, she had nearly panicked. The only reason her arrow had managed to find the thing's temples was because she had been at point-blank range. Farkas guarded her rear as she sneaked silently through the corridors. The first draugr she saw was a walker. She quickly shot him through the face without him ever knowing what hit him, and then retrieved her arrow. But the walkers weren't the problem. The problematic ones were the draugr that only got up out of bed _after _you walked past, and then scared the living snot out of you later. All in all, Lenay hated draugr. She had a list of things she hated. 1. Trolls (Their lurching steps unnerved her) 2. Draugr (For reasons listed above) and 3. Bandits (Mostly because they were unhygienic idiots. They were nice in that they were easy to dispatch). The list went on a ways, ending in things like 67. Weakling guards, and 82. The sound quills made.

Lenay led Farkas into a large chamber with two doorways, one of which was gated.

"Why don't you go ahead and grab that lever?" Farkas gestured to the open doorway, which only led to a smaller chamber. She waltzed in without worry and pulled a lever, and heard a clang. Turning around, she saw a problem.

"Oh, shit." She laced her fingers through the grate and gave it a good kick. Heaving, she tried to lift it, but the thing probably weighed far more than a mammoth. That's what it felt like, anyway.

"Don't worry, I'll find the other lever," Farkas snickered, then turned as voices came from the doorway they had come through. Without pausing, he drew the massive sword from his back and waited. Lenay fumbled at her back for her bow, but she had left it on the ledge outside the chamber.

"It's time to die, dog!" A man shouted, and Lenay scrambled furiously at the gate, trying with all her might to yank it up.

"We knew you'd be coming here…" Another growled, almost laughing.

"Your mistake, _Companion!" _That one had a slight imperial accent.

"Which one is that?" A woman, the only one there, almost sounding curious.

"Doesn't matter. He wears the armor, _he dies." _Lenay gave up, watching in silent horror.

"Killing you will make for an excellent story!" The woman screamed triumphantly.

"None of you will be alive to tell it." Farkas growled, his voice raspy. Lenay watched with an open mouth as his back hunched and he grew taller, his feet twisted and his arms elongated, and he grew tail and fur all over his body. The werewolf-Farkas roared, and then promptly ripped apart the attackers. Lenay backed up until her butt hit the wall, eyes wide in shock. Blood splatters covered the room, and Farkas came back into sight. She jerked her gaze up at the ceiling quickly.

"Hope I didn't frighten you… what's wrong?" Farkas asked, and Lenay laughed.

"I may not be innocent, Farkas, but go cover yourself up," she giggled into her hand, still avoiding looking at him. After he had clothed himself and opened the gate, she stood watching him with crossed arms.

"Is there any reason you didn't tell me?" the woman asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Don't be offended, very few people know. We don't give it out as free information." He replied, and Lenay's other eyebrow went up.

"We?"

"Yeah, the Circle. Me, Vilkas, Aela, Skjor, and Kodlak. It's a secret to everybody."

"So who were those guys?"

"The Silver Hand."

"Sounds like a scary book."

"Hahahaha, no, just a bunch of self-righteous werewolf hunters."

"So… The Vigilantes of Stendarr only less funding?"

Farkas laughed at that, and they continued on. After shooting dozens of Silver Hand and draugr, she picked the heavy metal fragment off the alter and killing the resulting ambushers, she stared at the metal shard with disdain.

"We came all this way for this? I had to see the living dead and you naked for this? I'm going to murder Skjor in his sleep." She dropped the fragment into her bag while Farkas chuckled.

"Have a little respect, it's older than both of us combined," he smirked as they climbed the stairs out.

"So… it's what, fifty years old?" she joked, and heaved open the heavy door. And let out a shriek.

"What, what is it?" he yelped, trying to look over her shoulder, but got an elbow in the stomach in return as she drew her bow and fired. Only then did she step out of the doorway, allowing Farkas to see.

A man in jester's clothes kneeled on the grass, curled in on his stomach. He drew his hands away from his abdomen, revealing an arrow sticking out. He looked at his bloodstained hands, and then back up at Lenay.

"Oh. You shot Cicero." He looked shocked. Then he let out a giggle.

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><p>AN* So sorry if you hate game dialogue. But please, I spent an hour watching Youtube videos, trying to find it. Have you any idea how many adolescent male players play as girls?


	8. Chapter 8

Hey everybody! Here's the next chapter! Thanks to Zuraka and WisperMoon1999 (Support is so nice)! I would like to point out that I'm straying a bit from what the quests actually are, but I'll make it work! I Promise. Enjoy!

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><p>Cicero was in a slight daze. All he could think was how surprised the woman had looked! It had been hilarious! But then she had shot him. And now his stomach hurt. A <em>lot.<em>

"Oh, _damn!" _she cursed, her hands over her mouth in shock. The man behind her was digging through his bag frantically, throwing things over his shoulder as he went. Finally, he turned around, hands empty and face pale.

"Lenay! I don't have any potions! Have you got anything?" he asked hurriedly, and she patted her backpack.

"Yeah! I picked up at least five inside!" she dug them out as the man replied, "You could've said something earlier!" and her reply was only to curse.

Cicero broke out into a violent coughing fit, and brought both hands to his mouth as he shuddered violently. He couldn't be sure, considering his hands were already sheeted in blood, but he was fairly sure he had coughed up a bit more. That was confirmed when he coughed again and tasted the metallic substance. Then the man supporting the back of his head while the woman tore the cork from the top of the healing potion with her teeth and suddenly the sickeningly sweet stuff was pouring down his throat. Cicero felt his abdomen jerk as the woman tore the arrow from him, and then poured another potion down his throat.

Cicero really hadn't meant to scare the woman; in fact, he'd had a moment where his heart skipped a beat. Really he had expected her to be still fighting her way through, not on the other side of the door. Astrid had asked (nicely, for her usual standards) that Cicero should shadow this strange woman and help her determine if she should join the family. Plus, she had offered him carrots. Well, he could say one thing about the woman; she had fast reflexes.

After being force-fed the rest of the potions, Cicero opened his eyes, which he had been keeping scrunched closed. Both of them squatted by his sides, looking down into his face anxiously.

"Are you alright?" the man asked in a rough voice. Cicero wriggled until he was sitting, hands patting his stomach absentmindedly. The Mother might be angry with him if he stayed and made his face familiar to his people. It was time to disappear.

"_WHAT IS THAT?" _he screeched, pointing behind them. They both whirled, shouting "What! What!". When they turned back around the man was gone, leaving nothing behind but five empty vials and a patch of blood-slicked grass.

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><p>Brynjolf knew she was there the second she stepped into the room. Excusing himself from the card game, he stood from his chair and followed her out the hidden entrance to the cemetery. She peeled the mask from her face and set it on a stone ledge, letting out one long breath. Brynjolf waited patiently.<p>

"I've been getting myself involved in politics, Brynjolf. Quietly, of course. They just assume luck is on their side when important documents appear on their doorstep; but I didn't pick them for their intelligence. But I hear rumors. Both Ulfric and Tulius want the Dragonborn on their side. And I doubt they won't hesitate to literally _grab _her if she shows her face." Karliah leaned against the wall as Brynjolf soaked this in.

"What side did you pick, Karliah?" Brynjolf asked after a minute of silence, his arms crossed.

"I picked the Imperials. Of course." As soon as she finished Brynjolf muttered curses under his breath.

"You know what we have to do. We need to get Lenay into one of the sides of her own free will, and you know there's no way in hell she's joining the bloody _Imperials! _She's a Nord! Don't you remember the time she came home from the Thalmor Embassy with a head? An actual head?" he arched his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Of course I do! She was so proud of herself. She took out half the Thalmor based in Skyrim. But…. Yes, you're right. She'll be offended if we tell her to join the Imperials. But we need to leave and find her _now."_

"You're right. Have you got her armor?" Brynjolf patted himself down as he talked, checking that he had everything he needed.

"Yes, Brynjolf, now move!" the two sprinted for the stables.

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><p>Astrid turned as she heard the door open and close. Cicero staggered around the corner, his hair slick with sweat and his hands coated in crimson.<p>

"By Sithis, Cicero, you didn't kill her did you?" she exclaimed, her brow furrowed. Cicero giggled.

"No! No no no! Cicero got shot!" he stuck a hand under his shirt, and then wiggled his fingers through the hole, giggling.

"By… who?" Astrid asked slowly, and Cicero stopped giggling to look at her seriously.

"The woman!" and then Astrid wasn't listening anymore. In the back of her head she could hear Cicero go on with his story, but the front of her mind was focused on the fact the woman had somehow managed to shoot a member of the Dark Brotherhood.

Interesting.

So the woman shot as her first reflex. _No one here shoots. She could be useful, _Astrid thought to herself, and she snapped her fingers at Cicero to catch his attention.

"Cicero, go get Babette to make sure you're okay." She turned before Cicero was gone, and stared at her map blankly while her mind worked. The woman was connected to the Thieves Guild, so her return to Riften at some point was guaranteed. The problem would be maneuvering her into the orphanage. Astrid doubted that the woman killing Grelod wasn't going to happen; she seemed the sort to kill a woman being cruel to orphans. Well, the Brotherhood could train her out of that later.

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><p>Lenay and Farkas had slept on the tundra that night, and well into the afternoon, just recovering. The pair were just trudging up the last hill to Whiterun when the sound of two thundering horses came up behind them. Lenay cursed and attempted to dive to the side and off the road, but a hand latched onto the back of her armor and yanked her up. A second later she was straddling a strange horse and her curses were muffled by a hand. Just as she considered biting it, the hand drew away and she craned her neck around.<p>

"Brynjolf?" she gasped, and the man grinned at her.

"How you doing, lass? Sorry I had to grab you like that." He apologized in his thick accent. Lenay cursed him under her breath and looked around. They were heading away from Whiterun at a fast pace, and Karliah was riding in full Nightingale Armor beside them. She couldn't see Farkas, but she could guess what he was going to do.

"You couldn't have waited? Now they're going to be chasing us! I could have gotten Frost, too. Nice planning, icebrain." Lenay growled, and continued, "Where are we going, anyway?"

"It's time you got involved in politics," Brynjolf laughed into her ear, and she had half a mind to throw herself off.

"You're kidding. Why are you forcing me to get involved in a war? It's not like it affects the Guild!"

"Because they might come looking for you. Would you rather us force you into the war or them to force you into the war?"

"Since when do you go along with authority?"

"Since authority could take you away from us. We need you." Brynjolf's tone made her pause.

"I've been thinking that I'm going to leave the Guild. I'm a horrible leader, Brynjolf. I'm never there." She wished they could be on the ground for this; the horse was making her voice hitch whenever it jumped over something.

"Oh no you don't! You are not leaving! We _need _you, Lenay. _I _need you!" the man's voice cracked, and Lenay fell silent. Oh. So _that _was it. _Oh._

"Whether you like it or not, we're riding to Windhelm." Brynjolf told her sternly, and Lenay snapped her mouth shut before something vile flew into it.

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><p>"Someone took Lenay!" Farkas was shouting it before the door had rebounded off the wall and smacked him in the face. Everyone stared in silence for a moment.<p>

"Someone _took _her? I can't picture that," commented Aela, but Farkas strode up the mead hall's table and slammed his fist on it, making the plates jump.

"I'm serious! A man literally grabbed the back of her armor and now she's on a horse with him, heading east! In the name of Talos, people_, I'm serious!" _Farkas waved his arms in the air, and Freya stood, her hackles raised. The youth next to her stood up as well. Farkas did a double take at him; bare-chested, covered in scars, and lean muscles along with an arrogant face. A swirling pattern of war paint covered his right cheek. _Must be Durgan, _Farkas thought to himself, spinning on his heel and throwing the door back open. He heard several curses behind him, and the sound of clattering dishes, and then Vilkas was cursing beside him as they jogged through the city.

"If you're wrong, I'm going to throw you off Dragonsreach." He stated, and Farkas laughed.

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><p>An hour later, Freya and Durgan were loping in front of the horses, their noses pressed to the ground. The one person they had come across on the road had literally screeched when he'd seen the giant wolves, and frozen. The two wolves passed, struggling to hold in laughter, and the man fainted. They were starting to get into the mountains now. They had reached a bridge that stretched across a deep, rather ominous chasm when Freya let out a strong curse mixed with a yelp and hopped to a stop.<p>

"There's something in my paw," she gasped, sitting down with a thump and raising her paw off the ground. Durgan halted, but she growled at him. Vilkas slid off his horse and handed to reins to his brother.

"You two wait for us on the other side. I'll help Freya." The two nodded and began crossing the bridge. Vilkas sat in front of Freya and took her paw in her lap, ignoring her low growl.

"Oh shush. I know it hurts," he growled back, and Freya flattened her ears. Vilkas lifted her paw and wrinkled his nose.

"You stepped on a tooth of some sort. Now, I'm going to grab it out in one… two…" and then the man dug his fingers into the she-wolfs paw pad and yanked it out, causing her to snarl and bark at him.

"What happened to three!" she gasped, whimpering and licking her paw.

"If I said three you would've tensed. It's best to surprise someone yanking anything out of them." He said, examining the tooth. Then he smirked. "It's a wolf tooth. How ironic." He tossed the tooth away and then began leading Freya across the bridge.

He quickly realized this bridge was in dire need of repair. Chunks in the stone were missing entirely, and the railing that was supposed to help if they lost their balance wasn't much more than a stone curb.

"Hey, watch your step," he called over his shoulder, continuing to walk. Vilkas could see the man-sized gap the second after his foot went through empty space. _DAAAMNNN! _He shouted in his mind, and thrust his arms out, trying to latch onto the stone. Then he felt hands pulling up at his armor, slowly dragging at him.

"Vilkas… I… Could use… some help!" came Freya's voice, and Vilkas grabbed onto the stone, heaving himself upwards, and then using his feet to push himself away from the hole. A small woman lay next to him, panting, eyes screwed shut. Vilkas felt a slow wave of confusion.

"What? Who in hell are you?" he asked, sliding away a few centimeters in distrust. Vilkas stared at her as she regained her breath. She had full lips and short-cropped blond hair that had several braids through it, and the same war paint design as Durgan. She cracked her eyes open, and Vilkas sighed in relief. Startlingly green eyes peered at him through thick lashes.

"Freya," he sighed, and rolled onto his back to stare at the gray sky.

"Finally," she sighed back, and Vilkas smiled.

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><p>Lenay was donned in her Nightingale armor. Oh, how she had missed this armor. The only things exposed were the tips of her fingers, and this sufficiently freaked out most people she met. Her bow was slung over her shoulder, and her quiver was stuffed full of arrows, and there were four daggers hidden about her armor, three of which were crappy iron ones and the fourth being Mehrune's Razor.<p>

Her mask was held loosely in her left hand as she walked coolly down the hall of the Palace of the Kings. The Jarl was arguing heatedly with a man in a bear hat, but cut off at the sight of Lenay striding towards him. Lenay could feel his eyes trail down her body and then come back up and land on her face. She halted in front of his throne and stared quietly at him in contemplation.

"Impetuous girl! State your name and business!" the man in the bear hat growled, bit she just tilted her head slightly as she examined Ulfric. _He's quite handsome. _She noted silently, meeting the Jarl's eyes. The bear man reached forward to grab her arm, and so she turned and Shouted one word; "FUS!", stopping him in his tracks.

The man looked shocked, but the Jarl grinned down at her.

"I was wondering when you would show up, _Dovahkiin_."


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the long delay, guys! This is a really short chapter just to help kick the story awake again. The cover picture I put up is supposed to be Lenay's face, in case, I don't know, you didn't feel like visualizing her ^.^ Well, as always, enjoy and review!

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><p>Alduin sat perched upon the Word Wall, his great mottled scales shining dully in the weak sun. He stared at the horizon, the churning madness of his mind flickering through his findings. So, there was a Dovahkiin? Alduin could remember the only two people from Helgen he hadn't destroyed utterly, and quite vividly at that; the mortal in the quilted rags, and then, so suddenly, the different one. The only one who had met his eyes. As the firstborn of Akatosh met the golden wolf eyes of the Dovahkiin something inside screamed at him to end her life. Alduin's tail had lashed forward, but the she was already springing away, already far enough away from his original aiming spot that only a single spike dragged its way down into her flesh, so shallow it was hardly worth mentioning. But the Dovahkiin had cried out in agony from the touch of his evil, and then the mortal had shoved her into the castle.<p>

Alduin dug his claws into the wall, seething as he remembered the gush of power from that simple touch. He longed to feel her bleeding between his teeth as her life ended, to see the horror in her eyes as she realized she'd lost, it was over, that he was coming for her soul to give her the true, final death. He wished for her death. There was a slight _boom _as a dragon Alduin didn't care enough about to know his name landed. He wasn't anybody important. Wisely, the dragon waited for Alduin to acknowledge him. Eventually, the black dragon turned.

"What is it?" he hissed, and the other dragon dropped his head respectfully.

"GaafDwiinFo was killed, milord." The dragon flinched slightly, as if expecting Alduin to strike. He didn't, but Alduin sort of felt like it. If dragons had lips with which they could smack thoughtfully, Alduin would have done that then. But he just turned and stared off into the distance again, ruminating on the news.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey! I finally kicked the brain into submission, so hopefully the regularity of the story will be a bit more... well, regular, in the future. I actually liked this chapter, although I kind of regret it. Let me know what you think, I love reviews! =D Enjoy!

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><p>Lenay sat at Ulfric's side at dinner, mostly in silence. The various politicians that dared to look at her after her introduction were held off with her stony glare. Lenay could feel Brynjolf's fingers next to her, just itching to reach into one of the fur-lined pockets of the rich folk. Karliah hadn't shown up at all; Lenay had a suspicion that Karliah <em>really <em>didn't like to be noticed. Lenay lightly picked at her food until Ulfric directly addressed her.

"So, Dragonborn, what convinced you to appear for the cause all of the sudden?" Ulfric asked, taking a long sip of fine wine as he waited for the woman to answer.

"I was forcibly pulled onto a horse on the walk home, and convinced," Lenay shot Brynjolf a glare, to which he chuckled around his mutton.

"What were you doing before this?" Ulfric asked curiously, eyes wandering slowly over Brynjolf. It was Brynjolf's turn to shoot her a look, and she swallowed carefully.

"Not important, really. Mercenary work." She cut off the conversation quickly. Ulfric looked at her thoughtfully. Lenay had a feeling that maybe Ulfric already knew. The dinner passed quickly after that, and then Ulfric snagged her sleeve and pulled her off into the map room.

"Jarl Laila Law-Giver has told me about you, you know," he growled, leaning against the sturdy table with crossed arms. Lenay suddenly realized they had adopted similar positions. She uncrosses her arms to let them hang by her side.

"I see." She replied tautly after a moment, and continued, "And what did she say?"

"There's a list." Ulfric said, brows furrowed.

"Don't hold back on account of my feelings, now." She scoffed back.

"I wasn't going to. Let's see here… You're the widely suspected murderer of a highly respected and powerful Thane and his Housecarl, a member of the Thieves Guild, you completely ignore the law as you feel like it, and Maven Black-Briar apparently sends her regards. What in that list is a good thing?" he demanded, after counting off the things on his fingers.

"I'm not a member," Lenay muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.

"What?" he asked incredulously, brow raised.

"I _said, _I'm not a member. I'm the leader!" she shot back, her hands curling into fists.

"Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"If you're going to insult me, at least do it right!"

"I'm _not insulting you!"_

"Then what the hell is this?"

"I…I… It was mostly a test." Ulfric sank back with a shrug. Lenay rolled her eyes and sighed in response. There was an awkward moment of silence. Then he tugged something out of his furs and held out a slip of paper to her. She took it, after a moment's hesitation.

"What is this?" she asked, not even looking at it.

"A bounty for a group of bandits holed up in a small tower. We could use the place. Do this for me, and I will overlook your history." He gestured toward the bounty, which she tucked into a plate of her nightingale armor. She nodded curtly when he seemed to be waiting for an answer. Then Lenay swept out of the map room and out the hall, waving Brynjolf off as he started to follow her.

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><p>The tower was falling apart.<p>

"He wants me to clear _that? _Whatever…." Lenay muttered to Frost as she slid off him.

The wood elf outside had barely stood before an arrow was embedded in his neck, and Lenay charged into the tower, loading her bow as she did. The archer staggering down the stairs missed her by an arms-length, and took Lenay's arrow in the face in return. An orc swordsman barreled down the stairs before Lenay could load again, so she braced herself against the wall and gave him an almighty shove as he struggled to slow next to her. He flailed for a second, then there was the sound of metal screeching as the orc fell down the stairs.

The black-haired woman turned just as a razor-sharp shard of ice sliced her cheek open and shattered on the wall behind her. She shot the mage in the leg as she ducked another icicle, and then ran up the remaining stairs to stab the mage in the face with her next arrow. She then proceeded to run up the stairs at a cautionary one-at-a-time pace (two at a time threw off one's balance, making them easily shoved over by swordsmen or children). As she reached the roof of the tower, her peripheral vision went "WHAT IS THAT?" just as she felt someone slam into her.

Lenay couldn't help but yelp as her head made a cracking sound against the stone. Someone had his arms wrapped tightly about her (at least Lenay hoped it was a man; their arms were rather big and muscular for someone of the feminine type), and, naturally, Lenay brought her foot forward and then brought it back, hard. She hit the man's knee, causing him to let out a 'gahh!' and to loosen his grip. As she pulled herself forward and writhed, he latched onto her ankles and pulled her backward across the stones.

She squirmed, trying to get away from the man, who must have recognized her superior shooting skills (again, his arms felt like the wiry muscularity of an archer), and now her bow lay perilously close to falling off the edge.

"Let… GO!" Lenay screeched in frustration, wrestling him and thrashing as the man attempted to pick her up. Her mind raced frantically through ways to kill this man – all were centered on her getting out of arm's reach. She knew she couldn't hold a candle to this man's strength, no matter how strong she may have been compared to other women. Hand-to-hand combat seemed to be her only choice, however.

Lenay made one more twist for freedom, then turned and jabbed two fingers into the man's eyes. He yelped and flailed, throwing her against the only surviving wall of the tower. The stones grinded and fell, leaving her to scramble away from the edge.

She grabbed her sturdy bow and sprinted to the kneeling man. Lenay gave him a quick kick to the stomach, and as he reared back she brought her bow down across his face, leaving a gash. Her fingers scrabbled in her empty quiver, arrowless from their struggle, and finding no ammo, picked up a loose stone from the roof. But he tackled her, knocking her towards the edge, and an idea popped into Lenay's head. As they rolled toward the edge, she made no effort to stop the roll, which, frankly, surprised and scared the archer.

The stone roof left her back, and she was scraping along the wall as she fell. The archer let go of her and clawed at the wall, even as Lenay did. Lenay cried out in pain as her hands found a ledge and her arm sockets were yanked painfully. The archer had found the ledge at the same time, and hung just out of reach of her. Lenay stared warily under her arms at the man, who stared back.

"I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot." He said suddenly, grinning. Lenay blinked, a bit dazzled by his handsome smirk.

"I agree," Lenay replied after a pause.

"I have a grappling hook in my pack." He told her, and she raised her eyebrows, looking at the small hide pack slung over his shoulders.

"And you want me to get it out and give it to you."

"I'm willing to share."

"If you're lying, I'll spit in your eye so you fall."

"Understood." He gave her another smile.

Lenay waited a moment, and then scooted closer to him until her shoulder touched his. Quickly she let go with her left hand and thrust it into his bag, leaving her face pressed against his arm. She found it quickly and hooked it between her hands.

"You've done this before," the archer commented.

"Yeah. But the hook is usually mine and I usually leave the bastard hanging. If I resort to hanging on the side of a bandit tower, I've run out of any other ideas to save my life." She sighed.

"Okay. Well, slide over and let me hang over the hook. Then you hold onto me and I'll let us down at a safe speed."

Lenay looked at him suspiciously.

"I can go down by myself."

"Without gloves? That's very safe." The archer said sarcastically.

"Fine." Lenay huffed and slid over. The man took her place and looked at her expectantly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and then they were slowly sliding down, his boots helping them to keep a constant speed.

Lenay grimaced, just noticing how her armor was grinding into her ribs; a panel must have been damaged in the struggle. She tried to pry it out by wiggling about.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, cutting her off mid-squirm.

"Lenay."

"I'm Carn."

"Hello, Carn."

"Is your armor bothering you?"

"Very much so, Carn."

"Well, take it off, Lenay."

"My arms hurt enough; I'll probably fall."

Their slide halted and Carn's arm slid around her waist, pinning her there. With her left hand Lenay quickly pulled the straps of her arm apart and yanked it off, then let it fall, leaving her in a thick, loose shirt.

They resumed their slide.

When they hit the ground, she let her arms fall to her sides, feeling weak and noodle-ish. Lenay staggered to where her armor (and, amazingly, her bow) lay on the ground and sat down heavily, exhausted.

"You could probably kill me. I wouldn't be able to stop you," she commented, combing her fingers through her hair.

"Kind of pointless now, after all the effort to keep you from falling to your death." He thudded to the ground next to her, grinning. She shrugged, and gave him a small smile. She itched an itch in her boot while Carn lay back against the ground. When her hand came back out of her boot, she held a thin dagger in her hand. Lenay turned and forcefully slipped the dagger between Carn's ribcage and into his heart, flinching slightly as blood sprayed into her face and Carn let out a half-gasp, half-yowl.

"Sorry, Carn. I liked you." Lenay said regretfully, leaving the blade embedded in the man's chest as he lay dying. She strapped on her armor and walked to Frost, ready to return to Ulfric.

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><p><em>AN* I have to say, I really did like Carn..._


	11. Chapter 11

Hello folks! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

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><p>Freya could feel Farkas and Vilkas's eyes on her in the dimming light as they approached the gates of Windhelm. Durgan's shoulder kept brushing hers (although, to be honest, she was a lot shorter) and Freya could feel a tense hostility radiating off him, and wondered if he felt the twins' eyes as well. She brushed her blond hair out of her eyes and did her best to ignore them.<p>

It wasn't really that hard; the burns on her side throbbed and stung, irritated by her mage robes. Freya swung her arms awkwardly as the gates swung open to allow them entry, and the group hurriedly hustled inside and made for the inn. As they walked into the warm interior, Durgan leaned down to talk into her ear.

"Can't figure out to do with your hands?" he chuckled.

"Gods! What am I supposed to _do_ with these things?" she complained, letting her hands flop about uselessly.

"I understand. I'm still not quite sure, so I always make sure I have pockets to stuff them into," Durgan snickered back, and she nodded in agreement.

"We're going to get some rooms. You two go… drink, or play lute." Vilkas said gruffly, Farkas beside him, and then gave the two a push up the stairs. The youngsters rolled their eyes and found a table by the fire, near the bard. The place was empty, expect for a reddish-brown haired man sitting dejectedly in the corner.

"So, what's she like?" Durgan asked suddenly, leaning back in his creaky wooden chair.

"Who?" Freya asked, startled.

"The Dragonborn. Lenay."

There was a pause while Freya sat there with her brow furrowed.

"I don't know her that well. But she's brave, and very sure of herself." Freya shrugged.

"Any weaknesses?" Durgan picked at his nails while he waited for a response.

"I don't know. Everyone is flawed. Why do you ask?" Freya said distractedly, trying to watch the man who had tensed suddenly in the corner, and seemed to be desperately trying to hide the fact he was prepared to jump over an empty table to their own occupied table. In fact, Freya had found that even when she wasn't a wolf she retained an uncanny ability to read body language, and this man's language was telling that he didn't wish to be noticed. Durgan noticed her distraction and turned his head to look at the stranger.

Then, without turning away from the stranger, Durgan slowly and deliberately said, "Lenay." The man's gaze automatically shot upward, meeting by accident Freya's and Durgan's. Without hesitating, Durgan lunged easily across the empty table and slid smoothly into the empty chair across from the stranger's. Freya followed in the more traditional, around-the-table route.

"Fancy moves for a kid like you," said the Nord, smirking arrogantly. Freya watched with crossed arms, trying to decide who was going to come out this the better.

"So, how do you know Lenay?" Durgan demanded, brushing his fair hair out of his eyes. The man obviously knew they'd seen his reaction, and grimaced slightly.

"Business. She just ran out on a little mission today for the good Jarl. It appears that no thought crossed her mind concerning that I might wonder where she went." He sounded bitter. Freya bit her lip.

"Say, you don't happen to be the bloke who dragged her onto a horse near Whiterun and rode off like Dremora were after you?" she questioned him, and he looked at her sharply and pursed his lips in thought. That was when Farkas walked up to the table.

"We've booked the – Hey! _You! _Where's Lenay?" the last part was said as Farkas grabbed the leather collar of the man's armor and yanked him halfway out of his seat.

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><p>Brynjolf was a reasonably sized Nord, and muscular to boot. He didn't really appreciate this other reasonably sized, muscular Nord grabbing him by his armor. So he promptly gave the man's arms a slight twist, painful enough to make him loosen his grip.<p>

"Don't touch me," he warned calmly, standing now, with a finger pointed warningly at his attacker. The agile lad and the short lass had backed away carefully, although their eyes seemed to stab at him from behind.

"What did you do with her?" the man demanded; rather single-mindedly, Brynjolf thought.

"Got her a meeting with the Jarl. She's out clearing out bandits right now." Brynjolf jerked his head toward the door. The man sighed and sat in an empty chair.

"Sorry. But abducting her like that alarmed us." He dragged a hand across his face wearily, and the other two slowly sank into their previous chairs.

"Name's Brynjolf. And you're forgiven; I imagine I would be upset too." He felt his stomach clench at the thought of it.

"I'm Farkas. That's Durgan and Freya. They're wolves."

Brynjolf could feel his face morph into the vision of confusion. Freya sighed.

"There's just no way to say that right, is there?" she said, causing Durgan to chuckle.

"We'll explain later."

"We have time now."

"No we don't."

"Yes, we do."

"No, we _don't." _

"Why not?"

"Because Lenay has entered the building!"

"I don't see her."

Durgan looked like he was going to shake her.

"Twelve hours in a human body and you forget you've got a nose?"

Freya and Durgan both slapped themselves in the face, him from her forgetfulness, and her from shame. Brynjolf watched with a poker face. Brynjolf noticed, on the side, that Farkas sniffed once, rather casually. Interesting.

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><p>Lenay walked into the bar tired and aching, with broken armor and a wicked urge to get severely drunk. Little did she know, that urge was about to multiply. She opened the door to Candlehearth and ran smack into Vilkas, hard enough to hurt.<p>

"Watch it!" she snapped. Then did a double-take. "Vilkas?"

"Lenay! I knew Farkas was exaggerating. Remind me to push him off Dragonsreach." Vilkas growled.

"There's a line. I think you're third."

Vilkas rubbed the back of his neck and frowned down at her.

"Well, who's before me?"

"Aela, then Eorlund. I think he gets to go twice though."

"That's a bother."

"A bit, yeah. Nice you came to see me though." Lenay beamed, brushing hair out of her eyes.

"Oh, well, you know, we thought you'd been kidnapped." Vilkas looked around uncomfortably.

"I was. But it's okay now!" she tacked the last bit on at Vilkas's incredulous look.

"...Okay then. Ready to head back to Whiterun?"

"I can't, actually. I've got to sort out this civil war."

"…By yourself?"

"I'll be with the Stormcloaks."

Whatever Vilkas would have said at that moment was cut off as the door behind Lenay opened, the figure responsible for opening it grabbed the surprised black-haired woman, yanked her outdoors, and slammed the door shut. All Lenay could think before she was hit over the head with something heavy and blunt was "Oh, gods, not again."


	12. Chapter 12

Hi everyone! This is a short chapter I just rolled out while I work on Lenay's bit. I love reviews =D - thanks, MadameHyde - it's nice to know my dialogue isn't completely irritating XD! Enjoy, and if you like what you see, please review!

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><p>"What do you mean, she's <em>disappeared?" <em>Astrid hissed, glaring up at Arnbjorn. Her rather tall husband grimaced down at her, with an expression akin to distaste.

"She never appeared back in Whiterun. Babette was watching for her, specifically. I'm the one telling you because they figured you might not kill me. Permanently, anyways." Arnbjorn growled back, and his wife closed her eyes for a long second.

"Fine. So she's disappeared. Hasn't anybody been following her?" she said, finally.

"Cicero was shortly before she vanished. And, if we're extraordinarily luc-" he was cut off as Gabriella swept into the room. Gabrielle did a lot of sweeping into rooms; she had a bit of a dramatic flair, and her loose, flowing pants and sleeves only encouraged her to become a bit… bat-like.

"Before you ask, let me tell the story, Arnbjorn," she said, quickly cutting off the werewolf. "So, there I was, on my way to Windhelm to assassin Tova Shatter-Shield, when I passed a rather crummy stone tower. Outside grazed a palomino stallion, and from inside the tower, I heard the sounds of a fight. You know me. I'm just sad I didn't bring a bottle of mead to watch with. So I snuck into the tower and used a little magic to see around the corners, and, surprise, surprise, there fought the black-haired woman." Gabriella paused with a leer.

"She was good, too; didn't lose her head when she was disarmed. She surprised me with a rather interesting move where she purposely rolled the two of them off the tower. The man she had been trying to kill became very friendly as they helped each other. She warmed up to him, as well. Then they both had a rest. Here comes the fun part; she slaughtered him mercilessly as soon as he completely relaxed. Left him dying on the ground." She closed her vibrant eyes and smiled at the memory. Astrid patted Arnbjorn's hand idly as she imagined it.

"So, she's in Eastmarch, is she? Gabriella, did you actually kill Tova yet?" the blond woman asked, shaking out of her dream world to look at the dark elf.

"No; I guessed you may be interested in what I had seen." She replied in her impeccable accent.

"Then go, do so, but stay in Windhelm. Watch for her."

Gabriella nodded.

Then she swept out.

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><p>*AN- I do know that Tova commits suicide (or DOES SHE?) AFTER you kill her remaining daughter, but, well, you know... writing...


	13. Chapter 13

Hi! I know, its been a while since I've updated, and thanks sooo much for reviews. I love reviews. I LIVE off them. Hint hint. Enjoy!

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><p>Lenay woke in the dim light of a single candle. She glared at it hatefully in case it might go out and leave her in peace, but it flickered on bravely and with no regard to the pounding headache she was now nursing. Her head hurt so much that she hardly realized there was a figure sitting in a chair by her bed. He was smiling grimly.<p>

His dark hair was plastered to his head with sweat, gritty warpaint was splashed across his face, and his hands looked like they hadn't been washed in ages. His bright yellow eyes stood out sharply in relief to the dark dirt all across him.

"Sorry, Lenay. I'm in a bit of a bind." He said, and Lenay groaned and let her head drop back against the cot she was lying on.

"Damn you, Trenden." She moaned, feeling the sorest spot on her head with a frown. Then a much cleaner, blond man walked into the room, his lips tight with unhappiness. Lenay thought she was going to throttle Trenden.

"You brought me to _Wuthnir's house?" _she hissed, glaring at her handsome nemesis.

"Trust me, I'd kick you out if Trenden didn't need your assistance." He snapped back, and commenced to lean coolly against the dark wooden door frame.

"About that, Lenay… I'm in serious trouble." Trenden said apprehensively. He was half-elven, with the slanted eyes and pointed ears of an elf, but with the robust frame and a strong face of a human. Whenever he was nervous he would tend to finger his ears until they were red, a strange but lovable habit of his. However, it also made him rather readable. Lenay sighed and sat up, rubbing her head.

"Fine. Fine! What've you done this time?" she asked wearily, hair falling in her eyes.

"Well… you see… I pissed off the Thalmor." He cringed slightly as if she were going to slap him. She certainly felt like slapping him.

"Look, you know you could have got my attention by other means than kidnapping? I've been abducted _twice _in the last two days. Do you realize how annoying it is? Ugh! Why does everyone think I can't just be called on to _listen _once and a while?" she rubbed at her eyes angrily, and Wuthnir snickered slightly.

"That was my condition for letting you both stay here," he smirked, a bit infuriatingly.

"Seriously, Trenden, what do you want me to do? I might be able to hide you in the Thieves Guild, but it's a temporary solution." She threw the covers off, overheating, and began working to remove her mangled armor while Trenden considered his options. A few panels had bent inward and now placed uncomfortable pressure on the left side of her ribcage, enough to hinder her movement. She tossed it on the floor and glared at Wuthnir, who was smirking to himself.

"What's so funny?" Lenay hissed suspiciously.

"I'm remembering a few spats. You just reminded me of the one where we'd starting throwing stones at each other, and I somehow threw one down your armor, and you started clanging around whenever you moved." He looked like he was holding in laughter.

"You had a mage friend along with you. He was a sweet kid until you got to him."

"How do you know? Did you kiss him?"

"Oh, gods, you know what I meant. And wouldn't that mean that you had been snogging him?"

"…Alright, you win."

"I'm impressed, Wuthnir. You've matured."

"Like fine wine." He flashed her a grin.

"We'll see about that. Can you shoot?"

"I haven't got your skill."

"Then maybe you have improved." Lenay raised her eyebrows, regarding Wuthnir.

"Do you still look like a praying mantis when you wield a blade?"

"I imagine so, yes," she laughed.

"Well, you're still alive, so you must not be too shabby."

"I hate to interrupt the first civilized conversation you've had in years, but I think you need to smuggle me out of the country." Trenden cut in, his head in his hands. Lenay and Wuthnir stopped to watch him a moment, stunned.

"You're going to leave? You love this country." Wuthnir asked incredulously. Trenden sighed and shrugged dejectedly.

"What else am I going to do? I'll just go where the Aldmeri Dominion doesn't have an influence." He said wearily. Lenay patted him quietly on the shoulder, not protesting. She knew what the Dominion did to its prisoners.

* * *

><p>AN* I know, I know, its not as much as I'd have liked to put for you guys, but I've been doing stuff, so this is whatcha get.


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